Different: A Supernatural Fanfiction
by casamacutie
Summary: A Supernatural AU in which Castiel, Meg, and Dean all attend Truman High School. Cas and Meg are best friends. For the longest time, it is just the two of them. Two becomes three as Dean Winchester joins the hallways of the school. At first, no one knows anything about Dean Winchester. But as tragedy strikes, Cas discovers how much Dean means to him, and how much he means to Dean.
1. Chapter 1: Sign of the Soul

Different

By: casamacutie

Thanks for choosing to read this! I hope you enjoy it! I put a lot of effort into it.

**Chapter One: Sign of the Soul**

"You were born sick, you fucker! What're you but just, just some piece of _nothing?! _You were born sick! No one cares about you, Castiel! No one cares that you're broken, you worthless piece of shit!" You're different! Different is bad, little fucker. Different is _never _good! I've seen you, looking at boys with eyes you should look at girls with! _Looking at them! Like that! _You can deny it all you want, you disgusting queer, but I see it! I see everything in you, boy!"

The power of a father's arm is the equivalent of a lightning strike. But the scar is worse. The scar haunts the dreams of the weak and the afraid. It pains those who are influenced too easily, those who know nothing but pain and abuse. It sparks a flame of anger, pain, and sadness. These emotions shine dully in their languid eyes, screaming to the world their problems, their cravings. A father's arms can rip at the soul of their children, and the blood that pours from within is the essence of the child itself. It can annihilate the very sense of self in a young boy, a boy who knows that different is bad, and a boy who knows that he was born with an incurable sickness. A sickness that makes people cringe, eyes gleaming in suspicion and hatred. Why? It is because in their eyes, different is unacceptable. Different is never a good quality. Different is a pathogen that must be avoided by any means possible.

Lying awake at night, Castiel heard his father's drunken words. He saw in his mind's eyes his father's eyes, eyes that were pierced with fierce anger and disgust. He saw a monster with the teeth of the wolf, the claws of the lion, and the words of the Devil. He saw the monster, the monster that reared above him and beat him. He knew the monster wasn't different, because the monster was never told that it was bad. The monster was never told that it was a little fucker. The monster was never told that it was a queer.

His words, echoing from deep in the past, cut every single one of Castiel's nights. Every one of his dreams was riddled with the curses and the threats. Every night, Castiel listened as he was told, over and over, that different was bad. He should fit in, like the rest of the boys. He should look at the girls the way he looked at boys. He should play football. He should go out at nights, find a girl, and spend the night with her. He shouldn't read books for fun. He shouldn't draw. He shouldn't sing. He shouldn't do anything even remotely different. He should wear a mask, his true self burning with shame beneath the thick plastic. Why?

Because different is disgusting.

Night, after night, after night. Different is bad. Different is never good. Different is despicable. Different is _never_ alright. Every night, he listened and watched as his dreams withered and twisted into a demon with the face of a nightmare, and with laughter that sounded like the screams of dying children.

He heard those children screaming, through every night, through all of his haunted dreams.

Different is bad.

Queer is bad. Singing is bad. Writing down the strangled words of the pain that screamed in his eye's luminous light was bad. Having a girl for a best friend was bad. Drawing the images that appeared in his mind's blind eye was bad. Every little action he did was bad. Castiel's entire existence was bad. He was nothing in the eyes of the universe. He was just an annoying fucker, with sullen eyes that said it all.

Being himself was just about the most heinous crime that he could commit. He always had to be like someone else. He had to be like someone who fit the stereotypes that littered the world, someone who was the apple of the universe's eyes. Someone who was different in Castiel's eyes, eyes diseased with suffering. Eyes that were different. Eyes that were meant to look at girls, but wandered over to guys.

Castiel lay awake during the nights that screamed at him, and saw the black sky littered with the sparkling stars. As he gazed into the very soul of the night, he realized he was chained. He was shackled to a monster that lashed out at him, who roared over his bleeding frame. He was tethered to a household that crushed his dreams, that crushed his heart, that crushed his very soul. He was tied to the Devil. He was chained to his sickness; sickness that caused him to cry out into the night, into the face of the God he knew didn't exist.

"I was born sick! Oh please, God, just let me be the same. Let me be good. Let me be the son my father wants. I am filth in the eyes of my family. Polish me, so that I can shine, so that I can the same, so that I can be loved. _Cure me so I can fit in! Cure me so I can live my life! Cure me so I can escape this wretched hell I call my life!" _Castiel screamed silently into the stars, into the heavenly kingdom of his Father above.

But his Father above and below never seemed to listen.

Castiel asked for peace. Peace was too much to ask for, because he was different. Different never once got peace. Why?

Because different was bad, in every sense of the word.

"Well, Clarence, that's a nice cut you got there." Said Meg through her tongue, as she concentrated on scrubbing the wet rag deep into the gash along Castiel's jaw. God knows what kind of dirt and grime had gotten into it. She had seen Cas's house once before; it smelled of hatred, beer, and filth constantly. None of the inhabitants seemed to care for the rattrap hovel; none except for Castiel, who tried his hardest to keep his living quarters clean. Meg had been in the house once, and no longer possessed a desire to step foot in it ever again. Whatever Cas's father had used to inflict the cut probably had some kind of dirt able to cause infection in it. The thought of it made her feel sick to her stomach.

Cas wasn't talking. He wasn't looking at Meg, his head bowed as he stared at his hands. He just sat there in the pained silence that he always sat in when he had gotten into a fight with his father. Cas was by no means a fighter, and Meg knew it. He wasn't physically incapable of fighting; Quite the contrary. Cas never resorted to violence, and that left him vulnerable. He always staggered away from the battle ragged. It was always a one sided fight. His father raged, roaring with the voice of hell. Cas whimpered and took it all.

Cas felt a heaviness deep in his chest. His heart seemed to drag its feet as he recalled the night's events. He didn't want to think about it. But Cas had the brain of a worrier. The brain of a worrier is a great burden. Like a malicious demon, it always reminded Cas of his mistakes, his terrible experiences. As soon as he woke in the morning, his brain would come to life, chattering happily about all the embarrassing, aggravating, and sad times he had. Every night, Cas fell asleep to his brain jabbering nonstop. It always told Cas that he was disgusting, that he was different. He never had a peaceful moment. Keeping himself busy with school was the only way for him to quit thinking about all the terrible things that had happened, the only way for him to clap his hand over his mind's ever-talking mouth. If Cas didn't have school, he would go insane, trapped inside a mind that pounded him relentlessly.

Meg watched as Cas played with his fingers in his lap. Those fingers shook as they danced together, shaking with barely restrained misery and rage. Meg applauded the amount of self control Cas could exercise; this boy would never need an anger management class in his life. She watched his hunched shoulders, shoulders that seemed to gobble up his neck. She saw his defeated posture. She heard his ragged, yet quiet wheezing. She heard him trying to keep his pain under control. She knew this kid was tough, tougher than he appeared on the outside. She listened to his silence, and she heard the wails that would never be heard. She heard his fight with his father playing over and over again in his head like the proverbial broken record.

"So, what did he rag about tonight, huh?" Meg asked after a few more seconds of strangled silence, knowing she would get little to no response from Cas. His brain was working much too fast and too hard for him to speak. She recognized his thinking face. She knew Cas felt emotions more than any human being that she knew. She knew it would be awhile before he had pulled himself back together, before he sewed up the wounds and taped the holes. But always he pulled through, always he regained his footing.

"He saw me talking to a boy, and he thought that I was being queer." Cas responded in an incredibly calm and unshaking voice, still refusing to look at Meg. She could only see the top of his head, and the bridge of his nose. He wiped his nose on his arm, and sniffled almost inaudibly. He played with his fingers faster. He squeezed his arms and legs closer to his body, making himself smaller, as if to hide himself from and external entity who was snarling just inches from his face. Seeing her best friend in so much physical and emotional pain made Meg want to cry right alongside him, but she knew she had to keep herself together. For Cas.

"Look up, let me see the cut," Meg ordered shakily, pulling lightly on his bristly chin.

Reluctantly, Cas looked up. Meg always admired Cas's eyes. She had dull, boring brown eyes, in her opinion. Some people even said that they were black. They seemed to have no luster, no emotion. But Cas had eyes that looked like a piece of the summer sky was injected into them. They were wide, they always shone, and they were always carefully observing. They were shining especially now; Meg saw that tears were peering over his bottom eyelids and were threatening to fall over the edge. His eyelashes were damp from blinking back those salty tears. His eyes were bloodshot, and that somehow made his eyes bluer than all of the summer skies combined.

Cas's eye contact was brief; he then looked down again, swallowing hard. He was aware that Meg knew he was crying, but he didn't want to admit it. _Boys don't cry, _he reminded himself. How many times had he been told this? He had always been a lachrymose kid. His father always yelled at him whenever he cried, even when he had broken his arm when he was younger. Cas knew that Meg wouldn't reprimand him for crying, but he still didn't want to cry in front of her. He swallowed again, and tried to take deep, even breaths.

Meg went over to the sink nearby, throwing the limp, bloody rag into it. Fetching a new one, she drowned it in disinfectant that singed her nose. She padded back over to Cas, who sat huddled on the edge of the sofa, his white shirt scarred with drops of his own blood. His bare toes played with the fuzzy carpet. His battered sneakers lay on the ground nearby. His face was extremely pale, except the rims of his eyes and his nose, which were red. It was a stark contrast to his obsidian hair

Meg crouched down beside him once more "This is gonna sting, Castiel." She said, gently holding his chin. He flinched when he heard his actual name used. He knew Meg only called him Castiel when she worried about him or was trying to get his attention. He nodded, and said "I know." He blinked once, and didn't say anything else.

Meg felt Cas's jaw clench when the disinfectant brushed the gash on his face. He hissed through his clenched teeth. Cas didn't say a thing. He didn't move. He didn't make a sound. But his pain was as clear as the night sky outside. The silence in the room was damaging. The ticking of the clock was magnified tenfold. The silence was so loud, Meg wanted to cover her ears, and whimper in a corner.

"You know it's OK to cry, Cas?" Meg asked in a quiet voice, cleaning the last of the cut. She lowered the rag when Cas was still achingly silent. Quieter than a stalking cat, Cas drew his legs up to his chest, his chin slowly alighting onto his knees. He looked up at Meg, his tear flooded eyes still shining in the lamplight. The misery within them sent a message more powerful than a crowd of angry protesters. Those cerulean pools were the windows into Castiel's crippled soul, and when Meg peered in those windows, she didn't like what she saw.

"…My father always says that boys don't cry, that crying is a sign of weakness." He muttered finally, his voice on the brink of breaking. The more he thought about what he said, the more he trembled. His lips gave a few nearly invisible tremors, tremors more powerful than an earthquake. He blinked, and as he did so, the tears in his eyes lost their balance, and fell over his eyelids. He quickly wiped his face, sniffing again, and jerked his eyes away from Meg. He shuddered, as if he could hear his father castigating him.

Meg felt as though a scaly, clawed monster burst to violent life inside her chest. Ripping at her lungs and heart, it made boiling blood rush to her brain. A serpentine hiss escaped her mouth before she could contain herself. Her brow crinkled, and her round face was etched with ferocious fury. Clenching her fists and jaw alike, she glared at her fists, the cords in her hands knotted tightly. Cas looked up at her, eyeing her apprehensively. He shrank away slightly as he detected anger radiating from Meg in waves, He connection with Meg was so strong, he could feel what she was feeling, even if he wasn't looking at her.

Meg knew how poorly Cas's father treated him, and she disagreed with it wholeheartedly. The man was a beast, on or off the bottle; he harmed his gentle son with his strong, merciless fists, and his vicious words. The boy did nothing to deserve the abuse he was given regularly, nothing at all. And then the man left the boy to wallow in his own blood, sweat, and pleads. How many times had Cas staggered across town to Meg's house, bleeding and broken? Meg had lost count, but she knew that Castiel had the number seared into his brain.

"Yeah? Well fuck your father, Castiel! Look at what he's done to you! Listen to all those nasty things he's said to you! After all of that, you think that bastard deserves to be _listened to?!_" Meg snarled through her teeth, eyes flashing with brilliant flames of hatred.

Cas chose to remain silent.

Meg tossed the rag into the faraway sink with venom, where it landed with a squishy thud, and sat down beside Cas.

"He said crying is a sign of weakness? Crying isn't a sign of weakness Cas! Crying is a sign of the _soul. _Crying means that you are in touch with your heart, and that you realize what is being done to you is wrong. Having contact with your emotions is what keeps you alive; what are we but dried up husks of nothingness without them? Hell, your father has it all wrong! _Not _crying is a sign of weakness!" Meg hissed, her voice growing louder and angrier with each breath she took. The more she spoke, the more she shook with just barely contained hatred.

"Please don't yell, Meg." Cas sighed.

"I'm not yelling anymore than you're crying." Meg hissed.

"Yes, but all the same. You know I don't like conflict." Cas murmured, wiping at the blood on his shirt. He stared at his thumb as the blood oozed its way into the ridges of his fingerprint. He still resolutely refused to make eye contact with Meg.

Meg sighed in exasperation. "Listen, your father is a bastard. You _know _he is wrong about everything he says about you. You're not worthless, you're not stupid, you aren't sick, you aren't bad! He is wrong about _everything_ Cas!" Meg said earnestly.

_Not everything, _Cas thought to himself.

"Castiel, are you hearing what I'm saying?" Meg pressed, squeezing his shoulder to jar him from his thoughts.

"Yes, Meg, I am."

"Good. Don't listen to him. Listen to _me. _Listen to me when I say this, because what I'm saying is 100 percent true. You are the smartest kid in class. You're the sweetest boy in the whole school. Just because you're a little different, it doesn't mean that you're diseased like you father likes to think. Being different is good! Imagine if we were all alike. How fucking annoying that would be, right?" Meg said, grinning. She dug her fingers harder into his bony shoulder. She felt how tense his muscles were.

The corner of Cas's mouth twitched a bit. His muscles relaxed slightly as Meg massaged them, in an attempt to make him feel better.

"And you aren't worthless, dummy. I need you, and you need to hang on so long as someone needs you, understand?" Meg said firmly, poking Cas's cheek playfully. Cas smiled a little bit, becoming less tense the more Meg spoke. He let his shoulders sag under her touch. He closed his eyes part way as she rubbed his weary shoulders. Sensing that Cas was enjoying the massage, Meg continued for a few moments longer, until Cas had closed his eyes completely.

Meg tugged on Cas's chin, so she could examine the cut that no longer bled. She smiled, and Cas couldn't help but smile as well. He could always leave it to Meg to make him feel better after a fight with his father. She reached up, and kissed his uninjured cheek. If Cas was a cat, he would've purred with content. All he could do was smile until dimples cut his cheeks.

"Love you, Cas." She said, tousling his raven black hair and standing up.

Cas flattened his hair, still smiling with warmth he always felt around Meg. "Love you too." He called quietly into the girl's wake. She was going back into the kitchen, her bare feet barely skimming the linoleum floor. Cas felt as warm as he did when he drank a steaming mug of coffee. Hugging his knees, Cas felt much better. Meg's words were much more convincing than his father's. Meg certainly knew how to maneuver her way around words, manipulating them for her use.

Meg's words whispered in Cas's head. _Crying is a sign of the soul. _Cas didn't believe that people had souls, but it was difficult to believe that whenever he was around Meg. She was one of the most soulful people he knew. She acted like a rough-and-tumble smartass most of the time, but there wasn't a person alive with a bigger heart than Meg.

Castiel's stream of happy thoughts was interrupted when Meg returned, a bandage box and a dry, fluffy rag in her hands. As Meg peeled open one of the bandages, the clock hanging above the fireplace rang out one o'clock Saturday morning. Meg's parents and sister were asleep, and chances were that Cas's family was also asleep or passed out from drinking. Cas knew Meg was tired, but he hadn't known he was almost on the verge of sleep. His eyes blinked deeply. As he listened to the continual ticks of the clock, he felt lethargic. His mouth split into a chasm, and he yawned a quiet yawn. Meg normally didn't put other people's feelings before her own, but Cas was the exception that proved the rule.

"Hey, don't fall asleep on me just yet." Meg murmured playfully, patting the cut on Cas's jaw dry. She patted it a little too hard, for a sharp stab of pain jarred Cas awake. He looked, and saw that Meg's eyes were also weighed down by sleep. She bit her lip in the way she always did whenever she was trying to hold back a yawn. He knew that she would make sure that he was taken care of before she even thought of going to bed.

"You're staying here, Clarence." Meg ordered, smoothing the bandage over Cas's jaw, and gave it one last pat, for good luck, she always said. He winced slightly.

"Gabriel will be worried." Cas said, standing. He felt very stiff, and his joints cracked as he moved.

"Well, where else would you be if you aren't home? He's not stupid; he'll know you're here."

"Thank you, Meg." Cas breathed, his chest warm and tingly. It was nice, having a best friend who would throw everything aside and come to his aid. It was great, knowing that there was someone out there would beat down anything that threatened to hurt him. Cas ached to return the thousands of favors Meg did for him, but the chance had never presented itself. He felt so unclean; he felt he was stealing from Meg whenever she took care of him like this. It felt wrong. Everything Cas did felt wrong.

"Shut up, and get some sleep." Meg said, tousling his hair again. She stood on her toes and nearly lifted Cas off his feet when she encased him in a rib-breaking hug. Cas, who wasn't very talented in the area of affection, patted her awkwardly on the back. Social contact terrified Cas, and Meg knew it. Still, Meg made an effort to show affection, much needed affection. Maybe Cas was afraid of affection because he rarely received it.

She broke away, and sauntered towards the wooden staircase. On the third step, she turned, and met Cas's eyes again. He was fiddling with the bandage, still fixed in the same spot. He smiled faintly, waving his long, spindly fingers. As Meg swayed on the third step, she saw just how delicate Castiel really was. Even though he was tall, and had a generous portion of muscle, he was still so fragile.

But he would be alright, just like he always was. Outward appearances could be deceiving.

"'Night, Clarence." She said, continuing up to the fourth, the fifth, and sixth steps. With each step she took, she felt more and more exhaustion.

"Goodnight, Meg." Cas responded quietly as Meg mounted the thirteenth step, and was gone from view. Cas listened, and he heard the faint sound of her door closing softly, almost as softly as the sigh he let out into the world.

Cas bent down, and picked up the bandage wrappers. With the faint smile still fluttering on his mouth, he cleaned up the mess Meg had left behind. Wrappers, rags, and disinfectants were returned to their various places in the kitchen Castiel knew as well as his own. As he put the medicinal things away, Castiel gazed out the window above the sink, transfixed. The stars reflected in his eyes that glimmered like sapphires.

_Crying is a sign of the soul._

He shook his head, and stole over to the couch. Sinking into it, sleep hovered over him. Though he didn't see it, Cas knew it was there. It took the broken boy into its warm arms, and wailed into the night the sorrows the boy would never release. Like an angelic guardian, sleep sat vigil over him, protecting him from any harm the world could throw at him. As it watched, Castiel dreamed empty dreams.


	2. Chapter2: The Touch of a Mother Never Ha

**Chapter 2: The Touch of a Mother Never Had**

"Would you look at him? Why would anyone want to hurt such a sweet boy?" asked an upset voice, one that dripped with concern and sorrow. It was a voice that had seen the stains of the world, and was shaking its head in mounting disbelief and disgust. It was a voice that itched to aid, but could do nothing about it; the helplessness in it made the world cringe.

"That bastard that calls himself his father, that's who, Mom." Snapped the response. There was a low growl and a faint trickle of vile curses audible only to those who were listening closely.

"Lord knows I've called the police on that man! But did anything come of it? No, of course not! The legal system in this country is something I worry about." There was a sound of someone wringing hands together, and the clucking of a tongue. The fuzzy carpet grumped as feet fidgeted.

"Yeah, it's going to the dogs alright."

Castiel was awake, but he certainly didn't want to be. His brain was delirious, and his muscles felt like jello. Just the thought of moving them made them cry out in despair. He kept his eyes shut, willing for sleep to come back. But the entity was gone. He just wanted to lie there on that couch for the rest of eternity, even though his neck ached and his limbs were far too long for it. The more he lay there, the more comfortable the couch got. The cushions seemed to get softer, the sofa itself seemed to enlarge to accommodate his long body, and the pillows seemed to get plumper. He felt like a wraith with acidic fingers was rubbing his bare eyeballs, murmuring gleefully through his groans. His jaw growled in pain. Squeezing his eyes tighter, Castiel rolled over, curling up into a ball. He felt a wave of pity radiate from two people above.

"Look at him, he didn't even put a blanket on himself." Said the voice Castiel recognized as Meg's mother. Suddenly, one of the many afghans that littered the house parachuted onto Cas's aching body. With a breeze, it melted around him, and cuddled him lovingly. Cas's mouth twitched into a faint smile, and he drew it nearer, begging on bent knees for sleep to come. He could feel people staring at him, and he was afraid he was blushing. He buried his face in his pillow, warmth billowing throughout his body.

"Wake him up soon, honey. Breakfast is almost ready, and I imagine he's hungry. That man probably didn't feed him a damn crumb last night. No wonder he's so thin." Meg's mother said, and Cas heard her walking back into the kitchen, the linoleum whispering as her feet brushed it. The chatter of pans and pots, the whispering gossip of a tea kettle, and the sizzling cackles of bacon kept jarring Cas from sleep. He wondered what time it was. The ever present ticking of the clock told him nothing except that time raged on.

Pulling the blanket closer to himself, Cas focused on counting sheep, a method that usually worked for him. As cliché as it was for everyone else, it put Cas out within minutes. There was something about sheep that made him sleepy. Perhaps it was the feel of wool. It was warm, and it was what this afghan was made of. Perhaps math just made him tired.

On his 134th sheep, when he was just beginning to drift back into his dreams, Cas yelped when a crushing weight from the sky suddenly fell into his side. The sheep in his mind squealed and scattered. Squirming onto his back, Cas looked about, his eyes focusing with difficulty in the bright sunlight gushing through the window. Eyes bleary and burning, Cas saw the grinning face of Meg close to his own. She was sitting on his stomach, legs folded, perusing a magazine. She booped his nose, and he squeezed his eyes shut, groaning in displeasure.

"Good morning, Clarence!" She sang out, burying her nose back into her magazine. She was an alarm clock that never broke, but was arguably pretty painful to use. As if she wasn't crushing Cas's guts, Meg casually turned the page of her magazine. Cas clearly heard the fresh crackle as the new pages bent under Meg's fingers.

"Good morning…?" He asked, rubbing his eyes, removing any crust. With a start, he realized that "You left your contacts in Clarence. Your eyes are all dry and bloodshot." Meg said. She looked away from her magazine, reached over, and opened the drawer that was attached to the side table. The drawer yawned, and Meg rooted about inside it. Cas could hear her moving things about, but he couldn't move, therefore he couldn't see what she was doing. A few seconds later, she sat up, and tossed him some eye care objects; among them was a contacts case, some contacts juice, and some eye drops.

Cas hissed. "I'm going to have to stop wearing them if I keep leaving them in like this." He said, rubbing his temples to soothe the clamoring of a migraine that was hitting his head like an overly enthusiastic prospector.

The contacts objects bouncing off his chest after an ill-timed reflex, Cas acknowledged just how much his eyes burned. Salty tears tried their hardest to soothe them, but they only made things worse. Fumbling with the objects, Cas began to squirt juice into the little case.

Just as Cas began to pull out his contacts, Meg's mother bustled in. Cas never had a mother, so Mrs. Masters was the first person to pop into his mind's eye whenever anyone said the word 'Mom'. Meg was Mrs. Masters in miniature. They both had dark hair, dark eyes, round faces and had voices that sounded nearly alike. Mrs. Masters was a fierce woman who wasn't afraid to tell her children off, but she never said anything close to what Cas's father said to him. She was a brilliant cook, and had a way with waffles.

Mrs. Masters had been essential in Cas's upbringing. It was she who drove him to the hospital when he had broken his arm. She was the one who took him shopping for his first ever school supplies, back in first grade. It was she who gave him the birds and the bees talk. (Her explanation was better and less awkward than Gabriel's). She was the one who provided a warm home for Cas. Cas imagined he loved her as much as he would his own mother, but he had no one to compare to.

"'Morning, Cassie dear. How are you feeling? Meg told me everything that happened. I've said it before, and I'll say it again; your father is a distasteful man, and I'd love to get a hold of him and tell him my mind!" She crooned, which escalated into a hateful snarl alarmingly fast. She and her daughter shared an opinion of Cas's father. Meg often gave Cas detailed descriptions on what she would do to Cas's father if laws meant nothing in the world. Such descriptions made Cas inwardly thankful that laws did in fact mean a lot in the world, for if they didn't mean anything, many people would be dead at Meg's hands.

"I'm better now, thanks." Cas replied, pulling his eyes open, one after the other, urging the eye drops to swan dive into his dry eyes. Blinking several times, he looked around. Cas was extremely nearsighted; Meg and her mother were merely blurs in front of him. His eyes groaned as they laid back in the hot tub of eye drops.

"Breakfast is almost ready dear." Mrs. Master's said, pressing his black rimmed glasses into his right hand, stroking his hair flat with her other hand. Gratefully, he smiled and put the glasses on. His vision was instantly clear, as if someone had wiped it clean with a rag. He could read the cover of Meg's magazine (_Time)_, and he could see the thin layer of flour on Mrs. Master's hands. He could see the pattern of the sofa pressed into his skin, and he watched the second hand on the clock ticking above the fireplace. A fire raged within, spitting sparks and talking loudly. Mrs. Masters smiled at him.

"Thanks Mrs. Masters." He said in his soft voice. He cracked his neck, wincing as he rotated his head. His neck felt bruised, and his eye was swollen from pressing into the pillow for too long. If he traced his face with his fingers, the sofa's pattern left a mark that could be felt.

"You're getting old, Clarence." Meg said, slowly turning her page. Her eyes darted back and forth like a baseball player stuck between bases.

"I'm only a month older than you, Meg." Cas pointed out, trying to sit up, but she refused to budge. He lay back, rubbing his prickly stubble. He bared his teeth in a fatigued yawn. Sniffing, he looked at Meg, who was still absorbed in her magazine. Her fingers were drumming against his chest absently, making his skin tickle. He gently crushed her fingers to stop them from tickling him, and their fingers involuntarily intertwined. Cas rubbed his cheek, waiting patiently for Meg to get up. The lower half of his body was falling asleep.

"Yeah…" Meg said, trailing off. She wasn't paying any attention, swinging her hand back and forth; Cas mimicked her.

"Meg, get off of him. Go wake up your sister." Mrs. Masters ordered from the kitchen doorway, he hands on her hips. She disappeared as a timer from within the steamy room yelped.

"She can go wake herself up." Meg hissed, pulling herself off Cas, taking her hand back, and tramping towards the staircase. Cas let out his breath in a huff. It was hard to breathe when Meg sat on him like that. Standing up, cracking his spine, his fingers, his toes, whatever could be cracked, Castiel folded the afghan. Everything below his stomach was being pricked by pins and needled, and groaned as they woke up. Straightening the pillow, and putting the eye care objects back in the side table drawer, Cas made his way into the kitchen, straightening anything that needed to be straightened. His vision shook as he took his first tottering steps. Rubbing his face and tousling his own hair, Cas blinked, the early morning dizziness fading. Rubbing his temple, the dizziness knew that it was dismissed, and left entirely. His bare feet cringed at how cold the linoleum was.

"Stop cleaning Cassie. Come and eat, you look dead on your feet." Mrs. Masters called, waving him into the kitchen. No one besides Mrs. Masters called him Cassie. He quite liked it.

As soon as he entered, he began setting the table, folding napkins into neat triangles. Cleaning things made Cas feel calm. Arranging objects into some kind of order made contentment steal over him. The texture of the napkin felt good beneath his fingers.

Mrs. Masters turned, and saw the boy working yet again. He looked as though he would collapse of exhaustion, but here he was, doing chores. She couldn't help but smile. She saw how he was quiet and methodic while he worked, as if he had done this a thousand times before. It seemed that whenever he could, Castiel was always cleaning, straightening, or fixing something. He didn't like keeping still, as if he needed to focus on something so his mind wouldn't wander to dark places. All of her children hated chores with passion. Castiel seemed to enjoy any kind of work.

"Cassie, honey, there's no need for that! I'll get it." Mrs. Masters said, laughing aloud and kissing the boy on his pale cheek. She pulled the silverware out of his reach.

"That's OK. I like helping." He said softly, smiling a little, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He folded the last napkin, and began laying silverware (which was not out of his reach) carefully next to the plates.

Mrs. Masters really liked Castiel. He was very quiet, but he was a good kind of quiet. Whenever she spoke, he listened very closely. His eyes were rapt with attention, and he always thought carefully before responding to her questions. There was no doubt that he was very educated; his vocabulary was superb, and he always spoke in a scholarly way. He had a pale face with a sharp jaw, but it was covered in scars from past battles. But his eyes didn't show it. Though they were burdened with a terrible past, Castiel's blue eyes were overflowing with kindness and understanding.

The boy took care of himself. He wasn't like other boys his age that she new. Most of the times his stark black hair was groomed neatly with a comb. He was either clean-shaven or had a dusting of stubble. He was always clean, and he brushed his teeth too. Mrs. Masters was a teacher, and she knew some boys who she wished were more like Castiel when it came to personal hygiene. If it weren't for the obvious signs of abuse, one could guess that Castiel came from a good home.

"How is your cut, sweetie?" Mrs. Masters asked, scraping eggs onto a large platter with a spatula. She squinted at the bandage that bloomed like a flower on Cas's face.

"It twinges a little, but I'm sure I'll be alright." Cas replied, finishing with the silverware. He trotted over to the high cupboard to the right of the sink, and began pulling out cups.

"I'll redress it after breakfast." Meg said, sauntering into the kitchen with a mess for hair. Hair like Meg's made Cas grateful for having short hair that didn't tangle easily.

Meg sat down at her spot at the table, and watched Castiel pour drinks. He had a small smile on his mouth, but his eyes were morose. Undoubtedly, he was dreading going home. Meg would try to get him to stay as long as he could. She hated to see him go back to that hellhole. She would keep him here like a brother if she could. Unfortunately, laws meant a lot in the world.

"'Morning everybody. Hi, Castiel."

Ruby, Meg's younger sister, had entered the room. She too had the dark hair and dark eyes that ran in the Master's family. Her hair was messier than Meg's, if that was possible. She went to Truman Junior High, so Castiel didn't see her as much as he saw Meg. Still, the two were close. Castiel practically was the only son in the Masters household, he was around so often. In fact, when Ruby was younger, she burst into a fit of tears when she was told that Cas wasn't actually her brother. The only time she cried like that was when she discovered Santa wasn't real.

"Alright, eat up everyone!" Mrs. Masters called, setting plates of food on the table. Steam spiraled into the air like the Aurora Borealis. Cas fluttered around the table, placing various drinks in front of various people. Ruby took orange juice. Mrs. Masters took tea, and Meg took coffee. Cas always drank whatever milk was in the fridge, but he never took chocolate milk. He was under Ruby's strict direction not to.

"Bless you, Clarence," Meg said happily as Cas placed a mug of coffee in front of her, smiling with the open-mouthed smile she had. She reached behind her to tousle his hair, but he dodged out of the way, grinning. With his glass of milk cupped in his hands, he sat down in his spot next to Meg. He took a sip, the liquid pleasurably cold in his dry mouth.

"Cassie, do you have work today? You can stay as long as you want to, honey." Mrs. Masters said after spooning herself some of the scrambled eggs, eggs that Meg was practically inhaling. She and her sister were eating so quickly, one could assume that the apocalypse was about to occur. Cas never ate fast; his stomach protested sharply whenever he ate a large amount of food in a short period of time.

Castiel served himself some of the eggs and a waffle, but he didn't eat. "I do, at twelve." He said, turning his wrist and checking his watch. He sighed in relief when he realized it was only quarter to eleven. Once relieved, he began to eat. He hadn't noticed just how ravenous he was. Mrs. Masters was right; Castiel hadn't eaten a thing since lunch at school yesterday. His stomach was empty and voluminous, and the wolves within howled.

Food was eaten in a blissful silence. Ruby and Meg were too busy focusing on what they were going to eat next. Castiel was sitting in his usual silence, a thoughtful expression tacked to his face. Mrs. Masters was observing Castiel's eyes. They were faraway, and they grew more and more pained the longer he sat there. He swallowed his food, and turned his eyes to his plate.

"Have you any schoolwork to do, Meg?" Mrs. Masters asked, breaking the silence and Castiel's train of thought. Mrs. Masters didn't exactly enjoy long periods of silence.

"No. I already did that." Meg said, upset that her eating was interrupted. Meg was the kind of person who could eat enough for three, but never gained weight. The wolves in her stomach could eat for as long as they pleased, and never feel nauseous. Castiel was like that too; he could eat one of Mrs. Masters' three course dinners with triple helpings of everything, and he would still be thinner than a blade of grass. It was as if the teen wasn't hungering for food; it seemed that he was yearning for something else, and that he was being starved of it. It was as if his hunger didn't come merely from his body; it also came from his soul.

Castiel scratched at his bandage. His skin beneath was beginning to itch. He stopped scratching when Meg shot him some eye daggers. She was still intimidating, even though she was a few heads smaller than him, and her cheeks were puffed out, full of eggs. He hastily removed his hand, his eyes darting to his plate.

As Cas resisted the urge to scratch, his thoughts wandered over to school he would have to attend on Monday. Cas did well in school. He very much enjoyed school, but school didn't enjoy him. Cas was not popular, but he didn't exactly mind. Sure, people didn't talk to him. Sure, people disregarded him in hallways and always walked into him, but as long as he had Meg there, he was fine. Cas had realized that when one was in high school, one only needed at least one true friend to get by. That was all. One person to do everything with, tell everything to, and complain about everything with. That's all he needed, and that's all he had. He was content.

But, Cas didn't like the stares. He came to school bearing the scars of domestic battles, and people knew it. He made up stories for them to believe, but no one actually believed him. He filled their cups with lies, and they only pretended to take a sip. It was an open secret that Castiel Novak was the brunt of his father's rage. His arms, face, and neck were spider webbed with knobby white scars that told his story better than any text ever could. Everyone looked with eyes full of pity or disgust. Cas hated both.

Still thinking about school, Cas began to help clear the table. He scooped up plates and cups, placing them in the sink where Meg had begun to wash them. The wolves were all lying down together, digesting. He watched the soap bubbles swirl in circles, until they went down the drain.

Meg shook her hands to free them of water, spraying Cas with droplet of dishwater. Whatever remained, she wiped on Ruby's shirt, and stuffed the sponge into her hands, ignoring her whines. Meg stopped Cas from going back to the table by pushing her palms against his chest.

"Come on, let me redress that cut." She ordered, head down as she pushed harder. Cas dug his feet into the floor, bracing himself against Meg's hands.

"I can do it myself, you know." Cas reminded her, removing her hands. How many times had he done it? How many miles of bandages had he used, how many tons of disinfectant had he applied, how many stitches had he gotten? Countless, it seemed. He used more bandages in a year than a hospital did in ten. It seemed that the Masters' first aid kit wasn't meant for them: it was destined for Castiel.

"Shut up, you never put your bandages on right. It bothers the hell out of me." Meg hissed, gingerly peeling off the old bandage after Cas sat on the counter by the sink, clearing away the teetering mountains of plates. He placed his elbows on his knees, and placed his chin on his knuckles. His mind in an alternative universe, Meg tore off the last of the bandage. He barely even winced anymore. The tear of a bandage was as natural as breathing to him now.

He was jarred out of his daydreams when a hand wiped at the cut with yet another dose of disinfectant. But he sensed right away that this hand was different. He looked up, and saw Mrs. Masters cleaning his wound. Her face was pity personified, and he didn't like it. Cas didn't like being pitied. Meg was washing dishes again, reaching for dirty dishes behind Cas. She swatted at Ruby as she wiped her hands on Meg's arms and face.

"Why does he do this to me?" Cas blurted out, his mouth working faster than his mind. Cas always measured his words, but this time he didn't. The words flew out of his mouth faster than a blink of his eye. He didn't know what caused him to open up so quickly and suddenly, but he did. He was genuinely confused. Tendrils of confusion slithered out of his soul, and stroked his brain seductively, until he vomited those words.

"Don't ask me to comprehend the mind of the wicked. Their minds work in sick ways." Meg hissed, throwing the sponge at Ruby's retreating back.

Mrs. Master gently patted the cut dry. She saw just how mournful Cas was. Mournful was an expression that fit his face. Maybe it was because it was so scarred, maybe it was because everyone in the room felt his sorrow, sorrow that leeched the happiness out of the boy. But it fit his features like a puzzle piece fit a jigsaw. He seemed to shrink into a child before her very eyes. With downcast eyes, he asked Meg and her mother a question he had been asking himself for as long as his memory allowed.

_Why?_

Mrs. Masters pursed her lips, shifting her weight from one hip to another as she raced to figure out what to say to him. Finally, taking a tentative breath, she spoke. "I don't know Cassie. He is sick, as Meg says. But that doesn't give him an excuse to hit you, or your brothers, or anyone." She said softly, peeling a fresh bandage out of its wrapper.

"But none of this is your fault, Castiel. Yes, that is cliché, but there are reasons why that is cliché. It's because it's true." Mrs. Masters said, smoothing the bandage over Cas's jaw as if she were tending to an infant. She rested her hand on Cas's bristly cheek, her thumb combing the stubble.

Cas leaned into the touch, the touch of a mother. He had never had that before, and he enjoyed it immensely. He blinked, and was both touched and confused as Mrs. Masters wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him both firmly and gently, both happily and sadly.

He felt invisible hands clamp his throat and his heart, squeezing them until a deluge of helpless misery exploded out of them. A tiny whimper burst free of his lips, and his entire frame was overwhelmed with sobs. Like a disease, tears blinded Cas's vision once more. He opened his mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came.

Hugging her back, one final tear leaked out of his eye. A sob broke free from the rest, and sprinted off into the cheerful morning, the morning that couldn't pierce through Cas's anguish. Castiel never wanted a mother more than he did in that moment.


	3. Chapter 3: Lesson of Bigotry

**Chapter 3: Lesson of Bigotry **

Meg and Cas were in the same grade. Both were tenth graders that attended Truman High School. They roamed the same hallways, they learned the same things. They ate together, and they suffered through vicious tests and essays together. It was a blessing from some entity higher up to Castiel; without Meg, he only had a few people who he actually talked to, and that was only to give them consent to use his pencil sharpener.

However, that was soon to change.

Cas lived on the far east side of town with his father and his brothers Michael, Lucifer, and Gabriel. All three of his older brothers were out of high school, through different ways. Michael and Gabriel had both graduated with superb grades; Lucifer, on the other hand, had been expelled from school and was asked never to return. He and his gang of malicious cronies strolled through the school with a reputation that hung in the air like the stench of rotted flesh. They had been blamed (and rightly so) for a myriad of crimes: The vandalism on the school grounds, the many false fire drills, scuffles in the hallway, full-blown brawls at lunchtimes, and many more, each escalating in seriousness. The worst, however, had been the stabbing of a young girl. No one really knew the identities of the offenders, but the blame had been pinned on Lucifer and his motley comrades. The girl had survived, but Lucifer and his friends suffered mass expulsion.

Needless to say, Castiel walked to school alone. He quite enjoyed his walks to school. He took the same route everyday. Some people would find that to be dull, but Cas felt safe when everything was in order. Deviations from his routine frightened him. It caused a balloon to swell in his chest, and his lungs felt very tight. It soothed him to see the same cracked birdbath in the lawn of the house up the street. It was nice to see the same dented trashcans in the alley he walked up every day. When he passed the familiar tree with crooked branches from which squirrels would scold him, Cas felt peaceful, a placid smile on his lips.

Meg lived on the far west side of town with her father, mother, and her seventh grade sister, Ruby. Ruby went to the Truman Junior High School, which stood a few blocks from the Masters household. Ruby would wait for Meg to finish drinking nearly a whole pot of coffee, and the two would set out. They would cross the grassy lawns, where Meg would see to it that her sister entered the safely enclosed grounds of the school. She would then proceed to Truman High. She leapt over fences, cut through alleys, and crossed the grounds of the town library. She barked at dogs that growled at her through chain linked fences, and waved at drivers that honked their horns angrily when she jaywalked across the street, ignoring the traffic lights. She dismissed the sidewalk up to the school, and strolled over the lawns. Once in the school grounds, she would meet Cas.

If one were to look, Cas could be seen sitting beneath an oak tree that looked to be centuries old, at least. It looked as though an angel had caressed that ground, sprinkled it with its powdery grace, and then the tree had sprang forth in a burst of pure creation. It was immense; sunshine and rain alike weaved its way through the majestic branches. Moss covered the ancient, wrinkled skin of the tree. Cas would either have a book sprawled on his lap, his finger stroking it as he marked his place, or have a drawing pad sleeping on his knees while he massaged it with a pencil point. He drew whatever came to his mind, but he mainly sketched the tree. The tree whispered timeworn tales to Castiel whenever the breeze stirred the leaves and the branches, its voice sounding like the snap of twigs. Cas would smile, one of the only times during the day he seemed content enough to just lie still.

Once Meg interrupted the tree's tale, She and Castiel would trudge into the building, where they would learn their way through the History, English, and Phys. Ed/ Health classes they had together. After that came lunch, where Meg would recover from gym (she didn't exactly enjoy exercise), and Cas would study. However, The pair would engage in thumb or arm wrestling matches, as the room was noisy and not conducive to studying. After lunch, Cas and Meg would go their separate ways for a while. Cas was more advanced when it came to math and science than Meg. Castiel then took art, whereas Meg had a study hall (She usually came in to bother Cas. Don, the teacher, didn't mind.) After that, the two finished the day with Latin Two. They then would walk back to the tree that marked the start of their day, and then depart; Castiel would walk straight to work, and Meg would pick up Ruby, then go to work herself.

Meg and Castiel had that routine nailed down for two years now, and they liked it, Cas in particular. He always took the same route to his classes, otherwise he would quickly get confused. He liked that each of his classes were 47 minutes long. He was grateful that the bell rang the same number of times, in the exact same pitch. When the same people walked by at the same time each day, he was happy. He liked keeping neat binders, notebooks, and lockers. He grew uncomfortable swiftly if things were chaotic. That was going to change, little did he know.

It happened before school started, the Monday after Cas's night at the Masters' house.

It was a morning cloaked in a murky sky. The sun had sheltered beneath the sheets and blankets that day. There was a slight breeze in the air; it was strong enough to get the tree to talk to Cas again, and he felt peaceful for the first time in a few days. Putting a thumb in his book to mark his place, Cas was content to close his eyes and listen to the breeze, the chatter of teens, and the crunch of gravel beneath footsteps. He always got to school at least twenty minutes early. Sitting under the tree was one of his favorite parts of the day. He rested his head against the aged bark, and breathed through his nostrils the earthy scent of the mighty oak.

As he listened to life bustling by him, he heard something he had never heard before. Normally, the air was laced with conversation, the rattling of bikes, and the growls of cars. Occasionally, rain pattered or snow drifted. Other times, the wind whistled through the tree, as it was doing now. But this noise was something that tickled his ears for the first time. It was a kind of purring, but not the kind of purr of a contented feline. No, it was not natural. It was something manmade. Cas's heart skipped a beat when he heard it. Opening his blue eyes and lifting his head, he peered around. The purring was growing louder; it was definitely drawing nearer. As soon as Cas identified the noise, he saw its source.

The purring was coming from a contented black car. It moved as though it was hovering just an inch from the ground. The first thing Cas thought of was a hawk that sailed through the open skies, the sharp eyes seeing everything and missing nothing. It shone, even though there wasn't any sun to cause reflection. Cas had never seen anything like it before. Sure, he'd seen cars before, but nothing like this one. This one purred beautifully, but it was still terrifying to look at. It was as if a black cat with bloodied claws, fangs, and muzzle was glowering at you, but was also rumbling happily. It was long, sleek, and stalked up the black street, the black street that looked grey by comparison. As Cas listened harder, he heard a blaring waterfall of Led Zeppelin. It was coming from the car that purred like a cat. The engine of that car roared as it turned the corner, into the school's parking lot. The roar of the engine just barely muffled the music that poured through the windows like a colorful liquid.

Enthralled, Cas continued to watch that car. It held him spellbound. His head had tilted to the side, and his mouth had been pushed down by some invisible entity.

As if gutted, the car stopped purring. It had glided into an empty parking space, and it was gleaming brighter in the sunlight that was peeking through the cloud cover. Cas and the sun both stared with great interest at this new car.

Holding up his book so it didn't look like he was being weird, he gave off the illusion that he was reading. He peered over the edge to keep observing the car. He shoved his glasses up on his nose quickly as to not lose sight of this new car and new person who was now coming out of the car. This was far off his beaten path, but he wasn't as bothered as normally would have been, oddly enough. This was _interesting. _

The first thing Cas noticed was that the teen who exited the driver's seat was tall. Almost ridiculously tall. Cas was pretty tall, but this kid was taller. He would have towered over Cas if he had the courage to go near. Cas was a good thirty feet away from him, but he felt terrified anyway. He felt like tendrils of power was slithering towards him from the stranger, and poking him aggressively in the chest. Even with his glasses on, he couldn't make out the stranger's face. But Cas found that he wasn't breathing. He felt like he was offending the stranger if he moved, blinked, or breathed.

The door creaked and slammed shut. The teen strolled around his beautiful car, and pulled open the trunk, where he was partially hidden from view. Already Cas had noticed that he was a bit bowlegged and he walked with the confidence of a wolf. He was already detecting an aura of superiority and strength. Cas could see the glint of his eyes, and it was something beautiful and terrifying to behold. Cas drew his limbs closer to his body, and brought his book closer to his face. He breathed in the scent of pulped trees and sweaty hands that radiated from the book. He reached out, and dragged his backpack closer to him. If he was a turtle, he would have drawn himself inside his shell.

Cautiously, he peered over the rim of his book again. He jumped when the stranger slammed the trunk shut with surprising force. Cas dropped his book, his hands trembling. It hit the ground with an annoyed squall, and flopped shut, spitting out a cloud of powdery dirt. Cas tried not to sneeze as the particles infiltrated his nose. Dust covered and sweaty, he scrambled to pick up the book again, trying not to be noticed.

His eyes flickered over to the stranger, and his stomach lurched unpleasantly when he saw the stranger's stare gorging into him. Cas pretended to be absorbed in his reading, just now noticing that his book had been upside down. He felt a sudden blush spread right down to his chest. It was like having boiling water injected into his veins. Cas had never been looked at like that in his life. The stranger had looked at him as if he had inspired deep curiosity and awe into him. It was so uncomfortable, but Cas found himself longing for another look.

He glanced over his now right side up book once more. The stranger wasn't looking at him anymore; he was shouldering a duffel that looked as though it had seen far better days. It seemed to wheeze wearily as the teen tossed it casually over his shoulder.

Cas didn't blink once.

His stomach lurched again, harder this time, when he heard gravel being crunched under boots. His heart was imitating a butterfly's wing beats, and his fingers were twitching like they always did when he was nervous. He didn't look up. He didn't want to be caught staring at a stranger with his eyes huge and jaw agape. He stared intently at the first paragraph of his page, reading the first sentence but not grasping what it was trying to say.

"Why are you blushing?"

Cas dropped his book again, his blood draining from his face as if someone had pulled the stopper out of a tub.

Meg was staring down at him quizzically, her hands on her backpack's shoulder straps. Her bottom lip was protruding out, and her eyebrow was aiming to brush her hairline. Cas peered over his book for a final time. The stranger had vanished like a ghost. He saw that Meg had on boots, and it wasn't the stranger's boots that he had heard. Was the stranger even wearing boots? He glanced up at Meg, who was looking alarmingly suspicious as another blush blossomed on his face. It was one thing to not be noticed by the stranger, but it was another to be caught staring by Meg. Her mind could connect things that looked as though they could never be connected. That was what she was doing now; connecting things that were probably so easily connected.

"Me? I'm not blushing." Cas stammered, clamoring to his feet, gripping his book tightly with his hands so Meg wouldn't notice how much they were shaking. He turned a shade darker the more she peered into his face. He saw that car in the corner of his eye, and he felt all the blood running away from his face. He smiled a little bit, to make himself seemingly innocent.

Meg still looked suspicious. "Yeah, well, you were a second ago; now you're whiter than a parsnip."

She handed him his backpack. Cas began to wonder is 'parsnip' was the best comparison to use, but Meg interrupted his thoughts.

"You sure are jumpy this morning, Clarence." Meg observed, as she waited for Cas to put his backpack over his shoulders. Admittedly, this was taking a while, as Cas kept casting glances towards the parking lot. He had lost sight of the stranger, and the car wasn't giving him any hints. He heard another set of boots crunching on gravel. He felt another blush torching his cheeks. He shouldered the backpack completely, and he marched Meg towards the door, not daring to look back. The boot steps stalked them over grass and over concrete. The sounds of those steps was like sound of a malicious cackle.

"How's your cut?" Meg asked conversationally as they approached the wide doors that sat like an angler fish, waiting for them, the little fish, to enter its jaws.

"Much better, thanks to you. We don't have any bandages at my house." Castiel said, walking ahead to open the door for Meg. It was deep in Castiel's nature to do such things. Meg smiled in response. It was true; his cut did feel a lot better. The only problem was that itched, and he had a mad urge to rip off the bandage and scratch until his fingers bled, but fortunately, he had self control.

Cas was about to go ahead into the hallways with Meg when he heard the ever present boot steps pick up the pace. Instinctively, Cas peered over his shoulder, holding the door open longer.

When he did so, it happened.

Castiel stared up full into the face of the stranger for the first time. He froze, eyes huge in his skull. His heart burst into an irregular jig. Butterflies in his stomach danced to the loud, jazzy music resonating from his brain that stifled all his thoughts. His lungs had put up a 'gone fishing' sign, and his windpipe huddled in on itself as if chilled, causing Cas to rasp raggedly. He inhaled sharply, swallowing quickly. He almost lost his grip on the door, but he did lose his grip on the book. When it fell to the floor, Cas did not break eye contact with that stranger. His ears had turned the 'open' sign to 'closed'.

That stunning stranger, whose eyes held that poor, pale teen in a trance for the first time, just smiled. His grin looked like the bared teeth of a lion.

Cas looked at that face hungrily, gleaning all the details that he could. Good thing too, because that face disappeared when it bent down to retrieve his book.

The stranger crossed the school's threshold, holding the book and scanning the cover. His eyes were large, and looked as though they had too much to carry. In other words, they looked almost exactly like Castiel's eyes. Those viridian crystals were scarred. Cas wasn't breathing again. He wasn't blinking, His heart wasn't beating. His eyes were devouring the stranger.

"_Slaughterhouse Five!_" Said the stranger, grinning the cheekiest and toothiest grin Cas had ever seen. His voice was deep and captivating. It rumbled almost just like his car did. His voice sounded just like that contented car, and Cas found that to be confusing. He felt very faint.

How could his eyes wander to girls when they could wander on this?

Meg coughed a tiny cough, reminding Cas to speak.

"Um…Yeah, Vonnegut." Cas said stupidly, finally letting go of the door. His hand hurt when he let go, he had been holding it that hard. He swallowed again, blinking his eyes several times.

The stranger's grin got even toothier, if that was possible. He lifted his gaze from the book, and stared right into Cas. They flickered up and down Cas's entire body, and then they studied his eyes. It was then Cas realized that his heart could actually cease functioning, for his chest felt quite empty. He hastily pushed his glasses up his nose, and his heart jumped back into action, rapidly.

"Nice to know that there's someone reading the good stuff." Said the stranger when Cas failed to speak anymore. Stuffing the book into Cas's trembling hands, he hefted the duffle, and strolled down the hallway. Cas actually squeaked when the stranger tossed them a careless wink. His head swiveled as he took in his environment, and Cas didn't move, eyes still unblinking. Soon, the crowd ate the stranger, and he was lost from view.

"Clarence? Who _was _that?! Did he just wink at me?!" Meg asked, unzipping his bag and putting the Vonnegut into it, among his notebooks and binders. Her eyes were huge, and she too was searching for the stranger. She seemed happier than Cas. Cas was still terrified. Her open-mouthed grin was tacked on her lips. She looked like a little fairy with pink paint on a brush had swiped at her cheek; she was blushing as much as Cas.

"I have no idea." Cas breathed, scratching at his bandage absently as Meg zippered the bag up again. He stood on the tips of his toes to try an locate the stranger. It was pointless; the owner of that magnificent car was long gone.

They started down a different hallways than the stranger. It was there Meg felt at liberty to talk about the stranger without fear of being overheard.

"_Did you see his car?! _It was a '67 _Impala! _Cas, do you even…" Meg said, launching into a stream of chatter. She didn't know that Cas wasn't listening. Cas was faraway in a land of daydreams. His heart was pounding, as if making up for all the skipped beats. He had gleaned such an image in his mind.

The most noticeable thing about the stranger's face was his _eyes. _Cas had never seen a pair like it. They were half closed, and cool. Even though they seemed to be on the brink of closing, the stranger was scraping up every detail around him. Every motion, every exit, any danger; the stranger saw it all. It was as if grass shot with different shades of green had sprouted in the stranger's eyes; his eyes were the deepest shade of green, a green that made Cas wobble where he stood. They had a piercing stare that frightened Cas, but made him feel secure at the same time. It was a confusing flurry of emotions that Cas was feeling.

The stranger had constellations of freckles on his tan cheeks. Cas felt like he could play connect-the-dots on those freckles for all of eternity, and never be bored. His pink lips curled into that cheeky grin that Cas wouldn't mind seeing again. Just as his eyes were sharp, the stranger's teeth were white and also a bit unnaturally sharp.

His hair was brownish blonde, and was spiky. It flowed over his head like white water rapids. Cas could almost see such rapids on his scalp. Bristles had begun to spring from the stranger's face, around his mouth, on his cheeks, and in the dimples that appeared when he smiled. Cas knew he wasn't breathing, and it felt good not to do so.

The stranger even had- "Clarence, are you listening to me? Where are you going?" Meg asked, seizing Cas from his dream world and thrusting him back into reality as he whined with protest. Blinking, he realized that he had walked straight past his locker. Meg had stopped, and was squinting at him watchfully, her mouth half open. Her eyebrow rose as he stumbled back, and began to pry open his locker.

He didn't say anything as he put in his combination. Meg opened her locker in one deft movement of the wrist (she had jammed her locker, that way she didn't need to use a combo). Tossing books about, dropping notebooks and crumpling up papers, she kept eyeing Cas. She had an inkling that Cas was a bit different. Meg was a very accepting person. As long as you were nice to her and people she loved, she would be friendly to you. Cas was nice to her, so she was nice to him, no matter what life choices he made. She only wished some people were more accepting of Cas. All he wanted was to read, write, draw, sing, and be happy. No one wanted to indulge.

Meg couldn't see why. The people in the world were all taught seemingly one ruthless lesson. It was the wrong lesson. The lesson teaching people to harm those who were different from themselves. To hurt the eccentric. To injure those who didn't conform to the rules that had been set, rules that were impossible for some people to follow. Hurting those who lay awake at night, fearing discrimination was 'acceptable'. The abusers didn't know anything about the abused. They didn't know the tear stained nights. They didn't know the thoughts that pestered them day in and day out. They weren't aware of the mortal fear the abused swam in constantly. They didn't know anything. They were just brainwashed to destroy the different. They all had been taught a terrible lesson: the lesson of bigotry. It was a lesson that each one of them had been taught, but too few didn't listen to. Meg was one of those few. She felt very strongly about the topic. Meg was nice to people who were nice to people she loved.

She wasn't nice to very many people.

"Who _was _that?!" Meg breathed again, stuffing books into her bag and slamming her locker shut with a reverberating thud.

"I haven't figured that out since the last time you asked me that." Cas said calmly, zipping his bag up slowly, shutting his locker softly. He looked at Meg, and he seemed as normal as ever. He pushed his glasses up his nose once more, and hefted his bag.

They set off towards their History class, chattering excitedly about the stranger. He was certainly a new kid. That much was obvious. Meg was certain that he was excellent at football and would lead their team to victory. Cas wondered whether or not he would be in advanced classes. Cas never stereotyped people based on first impressions. Cas had once known a girl who was seemingly perfect; she had good grades, played sports, had a nice family, and was basically a model person. But, as it turned out, she had broken many rules, rules that caused punishments to hunt her down like hounds.

"Maybe he'll be in some of our classes!" Meg said brightly. Her eyes went off into the distance. "Hopefully he's in our grade."

"Meg, you aren't thinking…?" Cas said, grinning slightly, eyes sparkling.

Meg glared at him teasingly. "So what if I am? I mean, did you even _look _at him?! Like, _damn._" Meg said, licking dry lips.

Cas rolled his eyes. "Whatever." He said, waiting for Meg to enter the room before him.

For the first time in his academic history, Castiel did not pay attention to the lesson. His eyes were on the board, on the teacher, but they were not seeing them. His mind was in an alternate universe, where he sailed on a river of questions and emotions. He was so deep in his dream world that he didn't even push up his glasses when they slid far down his nose. He just rested his chin on his hand and stared unseeingly at the board. A small grin slashed his mouth. His blinks were sluggish, his heart was rapid. He was pushed from his dazed thoughts full of the purring of a car only when the bell rang and people jostled by him. For a moment, he became genuinely curious of the stranger. Who was he? Where was he from?

As Cas walked by the window on the second floor, he could see that sleek vehicle in the parking lot. It had only been about an hour ago since he first saw the stranger. Cas wasn't quite sure what was happening to him. He had eyed people up before, but they never made him feel like this. It was confusing, and Cas disliked being confused. He tried to push the stranger out of his head as he headed to homeroom with Meg. He already didn't know what to do for his history homework; he'd have to pay attention in classes so he wasn't confused when he got home.

Cas was always fascinated by how hallways worked in school. The hallways were like arteries and veins. The students were like red blood cells. The students who misbehaved were like particles of disease. The teachers were like white blood cells. When a student was on their phone and not paying attention to their surroundings, they caused a blockage in the hallway. The slow students were the plaque, and the students trying to get around them were blocked red blood cells. Truman High was comparable to a circulatory system. Cas liked thinking of ideas like this. It took his mind off other things...things like tall teens and long cars...

As he and Meg walked down the stairwell and towards the homeroom they shared, Cas looked through the branches of the oak he sat beneath just an hour ago. Was it really an hour? It seemed like-

"Clarence? Homeroom is this way."

He and Meg broke away from the main line of red blood cells and into a small capillary. The amount of red blood cells in that hallway grew smaller, until they reached their destination.

Homeroom for Meg and Cas was a good part of the day. All they had to do was say "Here!" and then they could talk for the rest of the ten minutes. Normally, they talked about annoying things that Ruby did, or funny jokes that Gabriel had told Cas, or extracurriculars. But today, their conversation was going to be peppered with theories on who the new kid was, and thinking of a way to welcome him to the school. Cas always tried to make new kids comfortable, but he always found that they drifted away from him and joined other cliques, cliques that disliked him. But still, Cas felt obliged to help people, even though he knew they would go dark side.

Cas stood by the doorframe, letting Meg go first. Before she could take one step into the room, a deep voice, happy voice made her stop dead in her tracks.

"_Hey!_ Vonnegut!"

Cas always read stories about a person's heart falling on a stomach full of butterflies, and he never understood until he heard himself being referred to as 'Vonnegut' in a deep, guttural voice. Paler than he thought he could ever be, Cas turned, and saw the stranger running towards he and Meg, his duffel bouncing against his side. His brazen grin was back; he looked very happy to find someone he recognized. His eyes sparkled with green flames.

"Hi." He said breathlessly to Meg, smiling at Cas.

"Hiya." Meg replied, going into her smug and sarcastic mode she used when she was attracted to someone.

The stranger was wrestling something out of his back pocket. Someone bumped into Cas as they pushed past him to get into homeroom. This cleared Cas's mind. _C'mon Cas, focus here. _He blinked, and shut his mouth. He decided to watch the stranger wrestle with his back pocket.

The stranger had pulled out a wrinkled and torn paper. He unfolded it, flipped it right side up, and read it. Glancing quickly towards the room number, he smiled. "Room 116." He declared, folding the paper up and stuffing it back into his jeans pocket. He seemed proud of the fact that he discovered where his homeroom was. Cas knew the feeling all too well; being a freshman and wandering around hallways unbeknownst to him was truly a terrifying experience.

Cas nodded. "Yes, that's our homeroom." He said, staring the stranger full in the eyes, his mind getting murky. He beckoned at Meg and himself.

The stranger didn't say anything for a few seconds. He just half closed his eyes, the grin still on his face. Cas didn't blink, though his eyes began to water. He felt a smile tug at his mouth the more he looked at the stranger's eyes. He wanted to scream out _who are you? I want to know your name so we can talk . I want to know your life story, I want to know about your weird habits. I want to know your fears, your passions, your dreams. I want to know _everything.

"So…This is your homeroom too, Vonnegut fangirl?" Meg said testily, breaking the silence and the eye contact.

The stranger frowned. "I am not a fangirl." He hissed, his eyes narrowed.

Meg smiled. "Learn to take a joke, man." She said, sauntering into the room moments before the hornet-like bell rang. Cas flew in after her, not wanting to be marked late. He didn't look at the stranger, but he heard his boot steps thudding behind him. Cas felt like a rabbit fleeing from a fox, a fox with fangs that formed a cheeky grin. His eyes soon found Meg, and he went haring after her, seating himself in the chair next to her.

Two pairs of eyes followed the stranger at first, then it was three, four, six, seven. Soon, all the eyes in the room followed the stranger with the boot steps that made the floor shake with confidence. The overall chatter deflated slightly as the tall stranger pulled out the wrinkled paper again, and handed it to the homeroom teacher. Silent questions went unheard. Who is that? Where is he from? Why is he here? Is he nice? Is he a douche? _Who is that? _

Cas saw his glinting green gaze pierce him for a second. Hurriedly, he went deep into conversation with Meg. He heard a jarringly different voice, a voice that was swiftly becoming familiar, talking to the teacher. It was so blaring and unnatural, yet soothing. Cas didn't know how to describe it. He was interrupted once again by thunderous boot steps. He only paused for a moment before talking to Meg again (he already forgotten what they were talking about).

Cas felt a body plop into the empty chair beside him. Cas felt himself stiffen; he disliked it when people he didn't know sat down in his personal space bubble. Hell, sometimes people he _did _know weren't allowed in his bubble. Only Meg was allowed within the boundaries, and even she was sometimes exiled. He swallowed, and turned to find those eyes again, the grin happier than he had ever seen. Before Cas, Meg, or the stranger could be begin to speak, the teacher began taking roll.

"Ash!"

"Here!"

"Jo!"

"Here!"

"So, Vonnegut fangirl, where are you from?" Meg said, narrowing her eyes and folding her legs.

"Bobby!"

"Here!"

The stranger didn't respond at first, listening to the teacher and trying to label faces with a name. "Oh you know. Here, there, wherever." He replied vaguely, the twinkle in his eyes distinguished momentarily. Cas blinked, and tilted his head. For a moment, the stranger wasn't the same. For a moment, his eyes were filled with lifeless fire.

"Meg!"

Meg jumped.

"Uh-Here!" She stammered, eyes big.

"Meg, huh?" The stranger asked, the twinkle back in his eyes as if it had never left.

"That's me." Meg confirmed, nodding her head. She glanced at Castiel, who was too busy trying to hear his name. He had to block out all noise in order to concentrate. Cas couldn't handle two or more people talking to him at once. It made him anxious whenever that happened.

"The only mystery is you." The stranger said, addressing Cas.

"I don't know your name yet either." Cas reminded him, tilting his head again.

"Castiel!" The teacher called, eyes scanning the crowd of teenagers to find him.

"Here" Cas said quietly, raising a hand in acknowledgement. The teacher nodded, and resumed roll call.

Cas saw the stranger's brows furrow. Cas didn't like his name, and this was why. People were used to hearing names like 'Steve' or 'Bob' or 'John', and then there was him. No one was called 'Castiel'. Castiel was never on the list of baby names online. No sane parent would name their kid that, and Cas didn't blame them. All his life, people made scathing remarks about his name. (Castiel? What kind of name is that?) (Were your parents drunk when they named you?) He knew this stranger was thinking the same thing, and he lowered his eyes in shame.

"Castiel." The stranger said, as though he was trying to pronounce an exotic word that had an abundance of accents and weird, silent letters. He muttered the name under his breath a few times, staring at Cas unblinkingly. Cas nearly blushed when he realized what the stranger was doing.

He was trying to remember him, attach a name with a face. He was trying to remember this bespectacled, dark haired teen with the funny name. Cas often did this when he wanted to remember the face of someone important or slightly attractive. He wasn't sure why this stranger was memorizing him, of all people, but he was.

"And, uh…Dean Winchester?" The teacher asked tentatively, scanning the crowd again with an uncertain look on her face.

"Hey!" the stranger said in his thrumming voice, grinning the grin and waving. He didn't even blink as all eyes turned on him. In fact, he rather seemed to be enjoying it. He looked around the homeroom from beneath his lashes, his eyes glinting green. The teacher gave one final nod, and the class understood that they could talk again.

Instantly the class broke into a babble, shooting furtive looks at the stranger, who proved to be called Dean Winchester. Dean Winchester seemed to bask in the limelight like a cat in a ray of sunshine. He barely seemed to notice the looks that would have made Cas hide himself away in shame and fear. It was as if he was used to being put on the spot like this.

"Dean Winchester, huh?" Meg said, imitating the tone Dean had used when he said her name.

"That's me." Dean said, imitating Meg's response.

"So, where are you from?" Cas asked, finding a hidden store of courage.

Dean Winchester stared at Cas. His eyes seemed to be reading him like a book. Perhaps he was gleaning more information than Cas would like. Perhaps he was not. Either way, Cas didn't appreciate being stared at by this fascinating person known as Dean Winchester.

"I'm from nowhere." He concluded, and looked away. Cas knew instantly that Dean Winchester's previous whereabouts was forbidden territory. Cas did not wish to anger him, so he didn't press him any further.

Dean seemed to brighten after not being questioned further.

"Do any of you know where room 223 is? I've been in weird buildings, but this is one confusing place." He asked, looking at that hand worn paper once more.

Dean Winchester. The man from nowhere who had a black car and a past as mysterious as an Agatha Christie novel. Cas wanted to unravel the secrets of this peculiar person. He made eye contact with Dean, who smiled almost shyly.

Meg and Cas looked at Dean Winchester, and they knew that they had gained a friend. They each saw a lot of things in this kid. Meg saw a potential prom date.

Castiel saw a challenge in Dean Winchester, a challenge he couldn't wait to begin.


	4. Chapter 4: Fangirls and Pop Stands

**Chapter 4**

**Fangirls and Pop Stands **

"One, Two, Three, Four, I declare a thumb war."

Cas was trying to trap Meg's thumb under his, but it was far too fast. She always tried to do the bunny hole strategy, but Cas had told her for the umpteenth time that that was unfair. Cas felt like an idiot, sitting there with Meg's thumb so far out of range. It was simply frustrating.

"So, do you think Fangirl is going to show up?" Meg asked casually, trying to pin Cas's thumb, but in vain. He knew that she would leap out of the bunny hole 'unexpectedly', but she always popped up twelve seconds after waiting. She casually chewed a carrot, looking at Cas, waiting for his response. She had her feet propped up on his knees, and Cas gently removed them with his free hand.

"I don't think he likes it when you call him that." Cas replied, twitching his thumb and watching in enjoyment as Meg jerked her thumb away.

"So? I don't care. Maybe he doesn't have our lunch." Meg said, illegally twisting her arm in an effort to squish Cas's thumb. She peered out over the ocean of students who were most certainly in their lunch.

Perhaps he didn't have their lunch, but he had had most of their morning classes. Fangirl, as Meg had taken to calling him, had stuck to them like a super strong adhesive. He perched on their shoulders like a rather chatty, attentive parrot. Cas watched as his eyes constantly roamed around, taking in his surroundings and taking mental notes. Cas knew exactly how he felt; he himself often flitted his gaze to his surroundings, but he wasn't nearly as calm as Dean was. Dean was cool and confident; Cas was worried and afraid.

Another thing that Cas and Meg had noticed rather quickly was that Dean was shockingly smart. He gave off a 'pretty, but dumb' aura, but he was most certainly not dumb. He spoke in odd ways, and sometimes formed sentences that didn't make much sense to Castiel. He wasn't very 'book smart' or 'nerdy smart', as Cas was often told he was. He just had a sharp set of wits and an inquisitive, intuitive mind. He looked at the world that surrounded him, and soon enough, he could process it. Cas found it to be quite fascinating. Meg found it to be quite attractive.

Cas and Meg had lost track of Dean when a guidance counselor had pulled him aside, and shooed them away. So, Meg and Cas had gone to their lockers to get their books for their afternoon classes, and had set out for lunch. Now here they were, waiting to see if Dean would turn up.

As Meg continued to slash and burn every rule known to thumb war, Cas kept his eyes peeled for that tall teen with the glinting, grass green eyes. All he saw was the jabbering heads of his fellow classmates, the occasional tater tot flying around, and people returning to their tables after getting some condiments. He grunted in rage as Meg tried to use her other hand to crush his thumb. That was crossing the line.

When Dean Winchester did finally turn up, he found Cas and Meg throwing books, pencils, and Meg's hairbrush at one another, arguing loudly about the laws of thumb wars. Dean threw one of his tater tots at the fighting pair, it bouncing off Meg's head. Immediately, Meg and Cas stopped fighting. As if nothing had happened, Meg propped her feet back up on Cas's knee, and declared another thumb war. Dean raised an eyebrow at the transition from bloodthirsty warfare to peaceful friendship.

"Hello, Fangirl. Did you get lost?" Meg asked sweetly, pelting the tater tot at his face with surprising force.

Dean flopped down into the chair beside Cas, noticing the blush blooming in the teen's cheeks. He smiled at Cas, and saw his eyes get huge, and then dart down to his lunch, where he drowned tater tots in ketchup. The kid certainly was shy. He had barely said a word to Dean.

"I don't get lost; I get directionally confused." He replied, dipping one of his tater tots into Cas's ketchup, his hand brushing the pale skin that encased Cas's pinky finger. Cas quickly jerked it away.

"Sure, whatever. What classes you got next?" Meg asked, persistently resting her feet on Cas's knees. Cas responded by gently smacking them with his chemistry notebook. Meg casually threw a pen at him.

A quick study, just as Cas assumed, Dean began to observe the people before him. Causally chewing on a chicken nugget, he watched them.

The pair were obviously very close friends. Meg felt very at liberty, as she resumed to prop her feet up on Cas, despite being beaten with a notebook. Cas also wasn't hitting Meg hard at all; He was barely brushing her with his notebook. He obviously didn't want to hurt her. His eyes were as soft as his smile whenever he looked at her. Meg didn't seem to mind as Cas began eating some of her carrots. Dean would have assumed the two were together, but there was a feeling in the air that said otherwise. Cas looked like he loved Meg very much, and Meg looked like she loved him very much, but they were perfectly content to be just friends.

In Dean's opinion, Meg was very pretty. Her hair was long, dark brown, and wavy. It was a little messy, but Dean imagined it had to be difficult to keep such long hair perfect throughout the day, especially after gym class. She was a very quick talker, and seemed pretty sassy. Her eyes were brown, but they didn't say much about what she was thinking. She looked like the kind of girl who didn't take any bullshit, and would probably snap off your head if you said something insulting. And she didn't seem afraid of anything. She seemed like Cas's guardian. Cas was gentle and never seemed to speak up for himself. Meg made sure he was safe. Just last period, she had heaved a dodge ball into the face of someone who knocked Cas's glasses off and laughed. The kid still had a mark on his face in the locker room.

Cas was a little harder for Dean to read. He moved with kindness and gentleness, but his eyes burned with sadness, and deep, deep beneath those cerulean irises, Dean saw anger boiling at high heat. Most noticeably, however, was the large, white bandage that bloomed on the boy's face. Cas seemed totally oblivious to that bandage, as if wearing bandages was as common as wearing socks. Dean also noticed the large number of jagged, white scars that adorned his pale skin. If Dean had to guess, Cas was abused. Quite frequently. He couldn't understand _why, _though. Cas seemed to be very nice, very smart, and very obedient; the kind of son Dean's father would die to have.

Pondering whilst chewing a nugget, Dean watched as Cas gave up and let Meg keep her feet on his knee. He just bobbed his knee up and down rapidly, exactly in the same manner that Sammy did when he was nervous. Cas was nervous, but he was bobbing his knee because he knew Meg hated it, and would probably remove her leg if he did it for long enough.

"Fangirl? I asked you a question." Meg said, tapping a pen on his foam lunch tray.

Dean started. "Oh! Sorry, just thinking." He said, pulling the even more tattered paper out of his back pocket again. He felt Cas watching him with his gentle, yet angry eyes.

Glancing down at the torn yellow paper, Dean read the black print. "I have…Math in room 304…Biology in room 208…Auto Mechanics in Garage…and then Latin Two in room 231." He listed out, looking up triumphantly.

"Well, looks like you'll be following me to the next two classes, Fangirl, and then Latin eventually too!" Meg said happily, popping a tater tot into her mouth.

"What about you, Castiel?" Dean asked after a moment's silence.

Cas looked at him as he sucked on a pencil.

"You won't see me until Latin." He responded quietly, looking back down at his lunch. His knee was still bouncing.

For the rest of that period, Dean watched his two new friends with interest. It was odd; normally Dean was drawn to people like himself; jock like, thuggish smartasses with a taste for good wheels. Now, here he was, sitting with some normal girl with a sharp tongue and a practically mute nerd guy. It was strange. Dean didn't know why he was gravitating towards these two. Maybe because they were the only ones who didn't stare at him. Maybe because they were the only ones who helped him. Well, mainly that was Meg. Meg was the one who talked, whereas Cas was the one who sat to the side, quietly observing. It unnerved Dean at how quiet Cas was, yet how loud he seemed at the same time. He felt that Cas's eyes were piercing through his very soul. Even though Meg thought Cas was trying his hardest to not have an anxiety attack because he was in a stressful social situation, Dean felt that Cas was staring at him intently.

For some reason, he enjoyed it.

Dean explored Truman High School for the rest of the day with help mainly from Meg. When Meg had told Dean to follow her to the right, Cas had gone left after a hushed goodbye. Meg had tousled Cas's hair, and the boy left with a small smile pasted to his mouth. Dean watched as Cas's oversized navy sweater flopped as he hurriedly walked away, carrying an armload of books. He left behind the scent of notebook paper and faint, spiced deodorant.

"Come on, Fangirl. Math is this way." Meg said, tugging on his jacket sleeve and pulling her backpack over her shoulders. She turned, and was satisfied to hear the noise of Dean's boot steps. Soon, he drew up to her shoulder. He had the half grin on his face again, and he was looking around with great interest. He looked up, down, left, right, and kept throwing glances over his shoulder. He didn't say much at first, his eyes sparkling, but when he saw Meg grinning up at him, he smiled.

"How long of a walk is it? I'm beat." He said as they began to climb a crowded stairwell. Dean noticed many eyes were looking at them, each with a different emotion. Some were looking at him in fear. Others were looking threatening. A large portion of female eyes and even some male eyes were wide with wonder and nervous warmth. Still others just shot him deadpan looks. He just took it all in, sticking close to Meg. If he lost her, he'd be lost for sure. The hallways in the upstairs were even more confusing than those downstairs. He wondered how Meg and Cas did it all the time.

"Not far now. Just around the corner and we're golden." Meg said, rounding said corner into a hallway jammed with people trying to get to lockers. Casually pushing aside a couple exchanging a rather long and silent goodbye, Meg entered a small room with many desks, Dean on her tail. Meg sat down next to a tall, intimidating looking girl with a shock of red hair and red lips that rivaled her long, red nails. Dean headed to the teacher's desk.

As Dean went through the day, he began to learn more and more about the students in his grade. Abaddon was the name of the ferocious, yet pretty girl next to Meg. She had the smile of a wolf, and she made Dean very uneasy. What was worse was that he had to sit directly behind her, but also next to a girl called Jo. Dean liked Jo. He recognized her from his homeroom. She seemed to be very teasing, but he could see she had a kind heart. She had long blonde hair, and a big smile. She helped him organize his binder. The teacher was particularly keen on organization.

Behind Dean sat a funny little kid known as Garth. Garth was very thin and overall very tiny. His eyes were beady, but his smile and his laugh were huge. Dean wasn't sure if he was amused or annoyed by him. He seemed friendly enough, so Dean left him alone.

By the time Dean left Math with Meg for Biology, his head was spinning with all the new things he had experienced. His head was overflowing with the cheery chatter of Garth, the piercing, wolfish smile of Abaddon, the wavy locks and kind words of Jo, and teases from Meg. As he pushed his way through the crowd, the vision of Cas's simmering eyes filled his mind's eye. He was wondering when he would see him again. Dean was determined to become friends with him. He wasn't sure why; he just wanted to befriend the kid. Something inside him told him it was a good idea, and Dean always acted on a honed gut instinct.

Biology was another interesting experience. Seating himself beside a fish tank filled with several neon tetras, Dean was introduced to Bobby John, a funny little kid who smiled a lot. His skin was dark to match his eyes, and Dean liked him. He was quiet, and he reminded Dean of Cas. He sat at a table with Meg, Jo, and Bobby John. He felt lucky. Abaddon was on the very far side of the room, along with a scary looking boy who called himself Cain.

Dean had very good hearing. He could hear very small noises, and he could hear the whispers of people on the far side of the room. But he could also hear other things. Dean could hear things like emotions. He could sense tension, happiness, and fear quite easily. He could almost feel the changes in emotions rattle his eardrums. He had only been in Truman for a day, but he could already hear a silent tension. There was something strange about this school, something no one talked about. It was a beast with no voice, but everyone heard it. It was as if something too terrible to talk about had happened, and everyone was trying their hardest not to bring it up. It was just strange. Dean felt as though he was missing out on something, but he also felt glad for missing out on it.

For the rest of the day, Dean had that nagging tension dragging across his ears. Sure, everyone was nice enough and the school just seemed almost like any other school. But there was the faint presence of violence in the air. The almost absent scent of wrongdoing, some serious wrongdoing. Dean didn't know what it was. It was as if the school was tainted by some evil, but the evil itself was gone. Like an echo from the past, that was what Dean was sensing.

After experiencing Auto Mechanics in the Garage with a grouchy teacher who called himself Bobby, Dean made his way upstairs to try and locate his Latin classroom. Meg had told him which of his classes were upstairs and which were downstairs. She had told him that his Latin classroom was upstairs. Jo had been nice enough to mark on his wrinkled schedule which classes were downstairs and which were up.

Climbing a busy stairwell, Dean kept his eyes peeled for Meg or Cas. He would find it easy to locate them now; Cas was pretty tall, and he seemed weighed down by books. Meg would be harder to find. Meg was shorter; she could blend into crowds easily, which was a advantage at certain times. But Dean had learned a very long time ago to identify people not by their clothes or voices, but by their gaits.

Each person had a unique gait. Some people had bouncy hops like rabbits. These people seemed to have miniscule springs on their feet; they seemed to jump up a little whenever they took a step. The faster they walked, the more noticeable the bounce was.

Other people had a slower gait. They would drag their feet a bit, and weren't nearly as bouncy as the other walkers. It was as if little prison balls were attached to each of their toes; they couldn't bounce if they tried.

It seemed to Dean that with each gait came a different personality. Bouncy gaits were usually associated with bouncy, happy personalities. Sad personalities were dragged down by some unseen weight, but there was no denying that the weight was there. Sharp steps and quick jerks into the air indicated anger. Gentle thumps meant gentle emotions.

Dean already knew Meg and Cas's gaits. Meg walked serious. Meg walked no-nonsense. Meg walked with a step that was brimming with confidence, overflowing like the teary eyes of the afraid and the broken. Meg strolled with the might of a girl who could carry burdens far heavier than herself. Meg sauntered careless. Meg sauntered with salient teeth and eyes. Already Dean admired and also slightly feared Meg.

Cas was a whole different chapter in an entirely different book in a completely different library, which was situated quite nicely in a peculiar nation where up was down, and down was diagonal as well as sideways. Cas did not overflow with confidence. Cas's cup of confidence was completely desolate. Dean didn't have to know Cas very much at all to understand that his self-esteem was staggering in the sewer system. Cas was a battered wall full of holes, cracks, and chinks. Something in his life was hacking at him like a jackhammer on steroids, and Dean didn't want to know what. The kid had a god soul; Dean had a knack for detecting good souls from bad souls. Cas was anxious and afraid, in a situation in which he needed compassion and protection. A fledgling bird just too afraid to try out his black wings.

As Dean was rummaging through thoughts of gaits and personalities and all that he had seen that day, he managed to find Cas. It was as if Cas knew that Dean was thinking about him, and had suddenly appeared as if he melted from the wall behind him. His arms were embracing binders and a pencil case. His glasses were balancing somewhat precariously on the end of his nose. Hastily, he used one long, bony index finger to push them up again.

Cas saw Dean, and his eyes lit up in a mixture of alarm and recognition. Perhaps the recognition was the cause of the alarm. Dean wasn't sure. Either way, Dean was happy to see Cas, and Cas seemed to just be, well, alarmed to see him. His bony hands clamped like bulldog jaws on his book. He gave a start, as if remembering something someone had taught him, and gave a small smile.

Dean gave a great grin. "Hiya Cas!" He said, refraining from cuffing his shoulder because he sensed that Cas was the kind of person who disliked being touched. Even though Dean didn't have much of a personal space bubble, he knew other people did. Borders made people cherish a sense of security. To respect such borders was simple etiquette.

Tentatively, Cas squinted at Dean. He swallowed, and cautiously said in a quiet voice "Hello…Dean." He picked at the spine of one of his binders, marked 'Chemistry' in easily readable letters. Dean was slightly surprised to see a rather well-done drawing of a beaker full of lime green liquid plastered on the front it. He wondered whether or not it was printed out, or if Cas did it himself.

"Ah! See? You remembered!" Dean cried, truly happy.

"I have an excellent memory." Came the simple, very serious response.

"I'm sure you do. It's tenth period right? That means we have Latin, right? Where am I?" Dean asked, scratching the back of his neck. He felt the fine hairs growing there, and he watched as Cas continued to squint at him. He grinned a little uncomfortably.

Mutely, Cas pushed his glasses up again. He reminded himself to fix the frames when he returned home. He didn't say anything.

Suddenly, Dean felt someone on his left. He looked down, and saw that Meg had arrived. She was looking at Cas, an amused glint in her sharp eyes. Cas shot a wordless look at her, and Dean watched in fascination as the two had a silent conversation. Blinks, eyebrow twitches and dimple movements were the only thing these two needed to communicate. Words were a little easier, however.

Meg looked up at Dean. "You smell like oil," She declared without pretense.

"I take Auto Mechanics. Of course I smell like oil." Dean responded.

Meg shrugged. "Whatever. Latin's this way. Hurry up, or we'll be marked late." Meg said, turning on her heel and walking down a hallway choking with students. Cas followed wordlessly, slithering between students, somehow managing to not be touched whatsoever. Not wanting to get lost, Dean quickened his pace.

The small hallway emptied into a larger, yellow hallway. Dean recognized this hallway; his English class had taken place just a few doors down from the room they were now approaching; the Latin room. Meg entered first, shortly followed by Cas, Dean, and the bell.

Cas scurried to his seat next to the girl Dean recognized as Jo. Jo's charisma seemed to work on everyone; even Cas seemed relaxed around her. At least he wasn't hunched into a ball when he sat next to her. Meg sat down behind them, sitting next to a girl Dean didn't recognize.

Dean sat by himself behind Meg. He, Cas, and Meg were in the same column. Seeing over Meg's head was easy; Cas was the problem. The kid was tall, and he couldn't help it. Dean couldn't see much of the board over that shock of messy black hair. But he didn't really mind. Dean wasn't much of a visual, note taking kind of learner anyway. When it came to schoolwork that is; Dean was a good reader of people.

Besides, Dean had learned so much about a whole wealth of things just by looking. Just on his first day, Dean could bet his car keys that he knew certain things about certain people. He could guess that Cas was abused. That much was obvious. He could say that Meg was a fiery ball of feminist passion. He didn't know what was up with Garth, but he seemed nice enough. Abaddon probably plotted ways to punish people who annoyed her. She just had that look. Jo was a hardy and tough girl, but also probably liked puppies and baking on the side. And their Latin teacher might have had a caffeine addiction because she twitched a lot and had to run across the hall to her office to get some coffee, even though it was 1:30 in the afternoon.

Dean didn't need a board. He could learn just by looking at what was before and stating the not-so-obvious.

The bell soon rang, and with it was the guillotine that hacked off the head of the day.

What a day indeed.

Directing Dean to his locker wasn't very difficult. Dean was just a hallway over from Meg and Cas. Lockers were sorted by grade and last names. Meg Masters and Castiel Novak were quite close to one another, as close as the letters 'm' and 'n'. Dean Winchester was just a little bit farther away.

Leaving Dean and heading to their own lockers, Meg for once was deep in thought, which was a good thing. Meg acted primarily on gut instinct, and that sometimes left her in situations stickier than a terrifying mass of glue, gum, slug slime, honey, and syrup. Cas usually thought enough for the both of them, but today was different. It was rare for her to meditate on problems.

As Cas knelt down to his locker, Meg voiced her thoughts.

"So, what do you think of Fangirl there, Clarence?"

Cas wasn't listening. He was too absorbed in his agenda book, pulling this and that out of his locker and stuffing them into his backpack. He was mumbling inarticulately to himself. Did he have any Chemistry homework? What about English? And History?

Meg hung onto her locker door impatiently. "Clarence?" She pressed.

Cas mumbled louder, trying to block out her voice. He was thinking. He was the kind of thinker who could only focus upon one thing at a time. Perhaps he a Latin translation. His handwriting was difficult to decipher sometimes.

"Castiel, I'm talking to you," Meg said again, stuffing a folder into her bag. She poked him with a foot.

Cas looked up, startled to hear his actual name used.

"Sorry?" he asked, smiling innocently. He did have Latin homework. Now he could listen.

"Fangirl. I need opinions." Meg whispered, slamming her locker shut so that no one but Cas could hear her. She continued to poke him, even though she had his full attention.

"Why are you whispering? No one knows who Fangirl is besides us," Cas pointed out, shutting his locker and poking Meg back.

Meg shrugged.

"Why do you need opinions anyway?"

Meg glowered through her teeth. "Because! I am nosy and I enjoy talking,"

Cas also shrugged his shoulders. "Yes, I guess you are." He said, nodding, poking her one last time.

Meg was indeed nosy. She sometimes gossiped, and she liked discussing theories on people. A new kid that she found attractive was setting her juices and sense of curiosity to boiling.

It was Monday. Neither of the two worked on Mondays. Meg was a waitress at the local Italian restaurant, spending stuffy hours balancing trays of food on her arms and hips, keeping her mouth shut even though she met so many people who angered her in so many ways. Cas worked as a teller in the local bank. Despite his anxiety, being in a bank was calming. It smelled nice, and the other tellers were nice. Besides, he was being paid. He could suffer through this, especially knowing where Meg was. He couldn't picture himself carrying trays of food to rude people and noisy children.

Because it was Monday, Cas headed with Meg back to the Masters household. It was best to stay out of his father's way as much as possible. Besides, no one else was home. Michael and Gabriel were both working. Lucifer was wandering with his friends, the malicious bunch of kids who left behind that tension that Dean had picked up earlier. Eventually, the four siblings would return home, and Cas would just hide himself in his room anyway. It wasn't like Cas really wanted to go home. He'd much rather be at Meg's house, helping Ruby with homework and hanging out with Meg. It was much more peaceful. There, he wouldn't be yelled at for drawing, or writing, or doing whatever he pleased. In fact, he was admired for doing those things.

Who could blame him for wanting to go to the place where he was admired, yes, respected?

And so, they leapt over fences, cut through alleys, and crossed the grounds of the town library. Meg barked at dogs that growled at her through chain linked fences, whereas Cas would keep a fair gap between himself and the fence. Meg would then wave at drivers that honked their horns angrily when she jaywalked across the street, ignoring the traffic lights. Cas would hurry behind her, shooting the angry drivers apologetic looks.

They made a detour, walking across the green lawns of Truman Junior High. Standing in the shadows of a shady maple, the two would look for Ruby's dark hair and bright blue backpack. Meg also listened for her sister's voice, which, as she so put it, was 'enough to wilt all of the plants of this side of the Mississippi.'

Today was different. Today was just different on so many levels, it was making Cas a little dizzy. He was starting to get accustomed to hearing the purring of a car at the high school, but what was it doing _here?_

Sure enough, that black Impala was zipping its way down the street, avoiding other cars and packs of small children. Children and adult heads alike were turning to look at that car. Some parents were annoyed at the noise the car made, but it was soothing to Cas, yet still alarming. A bit more on the latter, because Cas didn't know why Dean was here. Perhaps he lived in the one of the houses down the street?

Cas watched, paralyzed as Dean parked on the twisty street, got out of his Impala, and leaned on it, his eyes on the gate of the school grounds. He seemed to not have noticed them at all. He had a faint frown on his lips, his brow furrowed. Cas absently fluttered his hand until he reached Meg's jacket, and gave it a few tugs.

"I see him, Clarence," She said. Cas turned, and saw Meg's narrowed eyes fixed on the car. Her arms were folded, and her brow was also furrowed.

Cas began to think that maybe Dean was following them, when he heard a loud voice sing out "'Bye, Sam!"

Cas and Meg turned as one, and saw Ruby waving furiously to a tallish boy with long hair. One hand on his backpack shoulder strap, he smiled nervously as he waved back. He then stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets, and maneuvered his way towards the Impala.

"Hey, slut," Meg greeted her sister, tousling her hair.

"Hiya bitch," Ruby responded. Cas laughed softly under his breath. The relationship between the sisters was something to respect, but also ponder over. Calling each other all manner of bad names was their way of saying 'Hi, how are you? Have a good day at school?' It certainly was easier to just say 'whore' and 'bitch' and 'slut' instead of using all those formalities.

Cas watched as 'Sam' reached the Impala. Then it hit Cas; Dean had a little brother that he obviously cared about a lot. The look on Dean's face said as much. His face lit up like a light bulb factory, and his eyes grew so soft, softer than a rabbit fur scarf. Dean copied Meg, and tousled his brother's long hair. He said something, to which Sam responded, a smile on his face as he wound around the car, sitting down in the passenger seat. The car roared, and pounded down the street, out of sight.

"So who was that, Rubes?" Meg asked as she pulled on Cas's shirt to get him moving. Stumbling, he hurried up to walk beside her. The purring still buzzed steadily in his ears.

Ruby pulled her hair out of a ponytail. She walked on Cas's other side. "That was a new kid. His name is Sam," She replied. She put the hair tie on her skinny wrist. She smiled a little.

"I figured that much, dolt, when you screamed his name,"

Ruby shot a withering look at her sister, which was returned with a glower. Cas watched with fascination. Knowing these two all his life, he was still amazed at how close they were, even though they fired vile curses and phrases at one another daily.

They continued to trek the few blocks to the Masters household. As they did so, Ruby continued her tale. Cas wasn't paying much attention; he watched as his shoes squished the grass, and thought about how close Dean and Sam were. It reminded him of both his blooming relationship with Gabriel, and his failing relationship with Michael and Lucifer. He wanted to be close with all of his brothers; he loved them unconditionally, even though they didn't return the affection all that much.

"He's just a new kid. You know, quiet, severely uncomfortable, the whole nine," She said, walking around the puddle that Meg jumped into.

"We met his brother," Cas said, following Ruby's footsteps around the puddle. He flicked those fraternal thoughts out of his mind, but the residue remained. Always the residue of any unhappy thought remained in Cas's mind.

Ruby turned to look at Cas. "Who's his brother?"

Cas blinked, his cheeks dusted pink. "Dean, the guy who drove that car."

Ruby blinked at Cas, and then turned to Meg. "Is he hot?" She blurted out immediately. Her eyes were huge as she awaited an answer.

Meg grinned and Cas released a quiet stream of laughter, his eyes crinkled and his teeth bared. He poked at the bandage on his face, ignoring Meg's growl of disapproval.

"Sure is, Rubes. 10 out of 10, I'd say," said Meg to her little sister.

Cas grinned cheekily. "And you Ruby? How about the fine Sam?" He asked, nudging the smaller girl with a gentle elbow. She responded with a light smack and a furious blush. "No, Castiel, I don't think he's hot." She hissed, straightening her shoulders and looking straight ahead, something she always did when she was embarrassed. Cas patted her head from his aerial vantage point, not even noticing he was doing it.

Soon, they were walking up the sidewalk that led to the entrance of the Masters' household. Cas walked up the sidewalk. Meg cut across the grass, followed by Ruby. Brushing against the neat shrubbery, the three climbed the stairs, and onto the porch. Like a warm embrace, the floral porch swallowed them, crooning with happiness.

Cas held the door open and watched as Meg and Ruby filed in, dropping their backpacks off their shoulders. The scent of the Masters' house wafted over Cas; a mixture of vanilla and fireplace logs burning softly like the eyes of the repressed.

Cas stepped over the threshold, and then stopped in his tracks. He tilted his head and surveyed the sofa. Perched there with cups of tea and coffee in their hands was Mrs. Masters, as well as-

"Gabriel?" Meg and Cas said at the same time, the door swinging shut behind them. Ruby looked slightly confused as she put her backpack under the table next to the sofa. Gabriel had been to the Masters household many times before. He came there to check on Cas, to just say hello, or to eat some food when he was hungry.

Gabriel, normally a joking smartass, had an expression of worry tacked onto his face. His large hands encased the steaming mug of coffee he was sipping from. His lips were jutting out, a habit he had when he was worried. As soon as he saw Cas, he hastily whisked away the concerned expression and adopted his usual smartass one. He grinned cockily.

"Hi Castiel!" He said, leaning back into the sofa, holding his coffee with one hand. His very presence seemed to calm Cas's very soul. It was as if Gabriel was a dragon with poison teeth and jagged talons that protected Cas from anything. A dragon that was gentle to no one except Castiel.

Cas nodded. "Hello Gabriel, but what's wrong?" He asked, skipping the preamble. Gabriel rarely showed up this early; normally he would relax at home after his first job, reading the newspaper or watching the TV. Something must have disrupted his usual pattern, for here he was, on the sofa at the wrong time.

Gabriel's smile faltered a little, his hand clutching his coffee tighter. "Well little bro…Bad things are certainly afoot," He said, watching as Cas slowly put down his things. Cas moved like an animal unable to decide whether or not to fight or flee. He was a bird that was flapping its wings, and squawking in fear, feet dancing forwards and then backwards. It would be comical if the situation didn't feel so serious.

Meg snorted from the kitchen, her schoolbag long forgotten. "Great story, ass. Care to elaborate?" She called. Cas could hear her rummaging in a cupboard. Probably the one under next to the toaster, which was where the chips were located.

Gabriel casually flipped a birdie behind his back, visible from the kitchen.

"Sure thing. Looks like Luci has blown the pop stand," He growled, his eyes boring into Castiel with stony anger and concern. Cas could almost feel his brother's heart squirming with a concern far too great for such a being to carry alone.

Silence pounced like a blanket falling over a mangled corpse. All eyes, even the smallest, shot towards Gabriel like a bullet. The claw of fear slashed the tranquil living room, the blood pouring from the wound drowning them all so that they could not speak.

In the threshold of the kitchen stood Meg, grasping a bowl of Doritos with such force that her hands were turning white. Her bottom eyelid twitched, and her jaw looked like it was auditioning for a role as a lockjaw victim. Her eyes were glued on the back of Gabriel's head. She looked as though she was about to say something, but her vocal cords seemed to be slashed.

Mrs. Masters sat on the edge of the couch seat, her gaze swimming in the contents of her mug. She too was squeezing her mug, her eyelid twitching. She had drawn her knees closer to herself, and she was breathing heavily. She looked up at Gabriel, fear personified on her face. She then cast her eyes quickly over to Ruby.

To Cas's right was Ruby, leaning against a wall. Her right hand was massaging her right side. Her eyes were vacant and tight. She didn't realize she was moving at all. Her mouth hung slightly open, her gaze fixed upon Gabriel. The more she stood there and thought, the harder she rubbed her side. She swallowed, and Cas saw that her limbs were shaking ever so slightly.

As one, everyone turned to look at Cas, who had truly gone whiter than a parsnip. He stood, hunched as if he was once again carrying a boulder he had once relieved himself of. His eyes were huge, almost as huge as the silence that leaked into every corner of the room. He played with the hem of his sweater, needing to feel something tangible in order to stave off imminent fear and mental breakdown

The past was flashing before each of their eyes. In a blur, they each saw and heard the same things. Fire alarms ringing in everyone's skull. The sound of knuckled flesh pounding bruised and defenseless skin. Curses and chants staining the air. A silver blade with the bite of a serpent. Ambulance sirens, a paramedic lifting a young, dark haired girl onto a stretcher, the pulse of the heart erratic and slowing down, down, down… The cries of injustice that scraped the sky, the bitter tears of the broken soul.

Cas watched as Ruby massaged her side. Now, here it was, all over again. The screams, the blade, the sirens. All of those had the potential of rearing out of their cage. It was as if someone had opened the prison that didn't have a key. All of that terror, all of that pain…It was all returning in a few seconds.

"…B-Blown the pop stand?" He whispered, pushing his hair off his forehead.

Gabriel nodded. "Yup. Lucifer is gone," He said with a finality that made Cas want to cry. But Cas didn't have any tears left to cry. His heart was just a voluminous cavern scattered with the salt his dried up tears left behind.

"Well…He's been gone for a few days before, hasn't he? Maybe he'll turn up," Mrs. Masters said, almost pleadingly.

"Something's different this time. I just know," Gabriel growled, looking out the window. He gazed at the curtains like it was all their fault that Lucifer was loose in a neighborhood that didn't need such a threat.

"I agree. He's been odder than usual recently," Cas said, nodding. Cas knew his brothers. He could tell instantly whether or not one of them was feeling different.

Gabriel drained the dregs of his coffee.

"Lucifer's out. So long as he's out, no one is safe."

Cas sank back against the door, his eyes fixed upon the ceiling. It had been a long time since he last prayed, but he felt that now was a good a time as any. His fingers closed upon the doorknob, cold against his skin. He wanted to do nothing more than sink into the doorframe and never come back. He clenched his jaw, and closed his eyes. Within all the screams echoing from the past, he pleaded.

_Lucifer is free. God help us, God help us all. _


	5. Chapter 5: Prayers Against the Flat Line

**Chapter 5**

**Prayers Against the Flat Line **

Although she constantly told Cas that crying was a good, therapeutic thing to do, Meg didn't cry too often herself. Meg had an abundance of physical and emotional strength; she was stronger than plenty of the students at school, Cas included. She was small, and she was strong. Being small was a good thing for people like Meg. No one ever expected her to be bold, to be strong of tongue, body, and mind. No one ever expected the claw to lash out. But the claw most certainly did lash out.

But even the strongest collapse over time. Like a column of an ancient stone temple, Meg would crumble and chip away. Supporting the weight of the temple would become too much for her as she was hacked and chipped at by responsibilities, emotions, and near anything else. Meg gave the appearance of a carefree, clever girl, but she was wounded every time some shot ill remarks at her, or every time she forgot to do homework. The temple would fall, and Meg would be reduced to a puddle of salty tears and anxiety.

Cas was experienced in the area of emotional breakdown. He knew exactly what to do whenever he was clutched by the powerful talons of his anxious mind, but he got terrified whenever Meg broke. Meg was his rock; Meg was the one who consoled him, who glued him back together. Meg was the one who wiped away his tears. He could never get used to him doing that to her. His very soul shed tears whenever Meg cried. He would do anything to make her happy again, simply anything. He just wanted to make sure his best friend lived a happy, stress free life.

Cas was a wordsmith; his writing was much better than his conversational skills. Often he would hug Meg awkwardly, trying to find words to say but failing epically, in his eyes. Meg was very good at comforting herself, so all she needed was the reassuring heat of another human's flesh, in which Cas's hug provided. Cas only wished that communicating through letters was still accepted. It was somehow easier to transfer his words onto paper than to transfer them into the air around him. It was as if his mouth had a strainer; the words he meant to say would cluster around his teeth and the liquid slosh no one cared for flowed out instead, drowning Meg in consolations she couldn't use.

Never before had they both cried freely, reaching out for reassurance and a lift from the pain. Their emotions ran wild like the bow across a cello. The liquid sound that reverberated from the strings flavored their salty tears. Rampant as the searing shouts from those with hatred, the anger charged through ever nerve fiber in their skin. Like an acidic venom, the anguish oozed through every cell of their petrified bodies.

It had been the only time Meg had been to Castiel's house. Every other time, Cas had told her to stay away, as far away from Hell as she could. And she had. She had placed an entire town between her and Cas's house. Cas was a weak child; he never spoke up for himself. But Meg had never seen him so firm with his emotions whenever he warned her from his house. He was worried. He had a grasp on what he wanted. He wanted Meg to be as far away from his father as humanly possible.

It was Gabriel who answered the door. Loping towards the door across the stained carpet from the scuffed sofa, he peered through the peephole. Castiel had been watching his every move, and as Gabriel turned and cast him a quizzical look, he hastily stowed the drawing pad he had been sketching on under the sofa. He tilted his head when Gabriel raised his eyebrows and twitched his mouth. Cas was never too good at interpreting facial expressions. He could only translate Meg's readily. What was Gabriel doing? It looked like he was having a facial seizure.

Gabriel opened the door, and blocked Cas's view of who was standing there. Cas didn't move, thinking it was his father, as usual. But then again…why would his father knock…?

Gabriel stood quickly aside, revealing a girl Cas had never seen before. He had seen the face before, yes. He had watched that face grow over the years. He had watched it become dirt, mud, snow, and blood covered from years of playing and pillaging. He had watched it become coated with beauty as the girl applied makeup to herself (and to Cas, when they were younger. He didn't like makeup in his eyes. It hurt, so they had discontinued,) He saw it dusted with flour and chocolate when she baked, and with Doritos whenever they watched TV. But damp with salt? This was new for this girl.

But was this the same girl? Was this really Meg, the Meg who was always the stronger of the pair? The girl who only cried when she was in serious physical pain or when she watched _Marley and Me?_ Meg was a statue, an indestructible statue. But the marble lay scattered in jagged pieces on Cas's doorstep, jarringly white against the impervious blackness of the chilled night.

Meg stood on the doorstep, noticeably swaying. She was clutching a tissue in her right hand, and she was holding a stitch in her side with her left. Her face, normally splattered with a sly smirk, was broken. Her eyes were seemingly swelling before them as they watched, and the whites of her eyes were nearly completely red. Eye makeup that Cas refused as a child bled on her stark white cheeks. Her shoulders drawn close to her neck, her toes pointing towards one another, Meg looked nothing like her usual self. She was cowering. She was afraid. Her chest was heaving up and down as if she had been running from an unimaginable fear.

Cas didn't even realize he had left his perch on the sofa. He awoke with a jolt, and realized that he was holding Meg's face with his shaking hands. His heart was screaming and clawing, roaring to escape its cage. He could see his chest shaking from his heart's primal fear. His limbs were quaking with the power of timid lightning. His brain was twitching and jerking; he sensed that something dreadful had happened, and he was reacting to it. He just stared at Meg, and she stared back, unable to speak. Her throat must have been swollen from the pressure of trying not to sob.

Gabriel had grabbed them both, bodily yanked them inside, and shut the door. They barely even blinked. Gabriel was the first to speak. His voice was jarringly different from the voices racing inside Cas's head. Wordlessly, he had a babbling monologue with himself, a TV talk show hosted by himself, featuring himself.

_Was she hurt? No, not physically at least. But not all injuries are visible, remember. She could be suffering from some internal trauma or something. Hell! What do I know about that? What could I do about that?_

_Has something happened at home? That's mainly my issue. Everyone gets along fine at her house! Couldn't be a happier family, so what could possibly have happened to make her like this?!_

_Was it Lucifer? Where is Lucifer?! He isn't home, last I checked. Probably out to play poker with his buddies, but we all know what that means, huh? Oh God, what if he did something to her? I swear, if that mangy little-_

"Meg, what happened? Are you hurt?!" Gabriel asked soothingly, yet firmly. His eyes seemed to glow with a honeyed light as he gripped Meg's shoulder, staring at her face unblinkingly. He too was obviously quite unnerved. Cas, swaying to the unseen rhythm of the conversation in his mind, burst back into reality once more.

Meg didn't release her grip on Cas's wrists. Cas hadn't noticed that either. He felt that she was shaking just as much as he was, perhaps even harder. Remembering that he was the one who had to be strong now, Cas grabbed both of her hands, slowly calming them with caresses from his thumbs. How small her hands were! And how fragile they seemed! A marble statue with a mallet hovering just inches above.

Meg gulped, and spoke with a voice that had so much determined strength that Cas was nearly swept away with admiration. Even though that strength melted towards the end of the phrase, the fact that she could summon up the courage to try and continue to be tough Meg, Meg who was always alright, was absolutely astounding to both Cas and Gabriel.

Still shaking with the power of a thousand devastated widows, Meg drew in a breath, and with the exhale she weaved words that made Cas want to melt into the floor, and never solidify again. The word weaver's mouth shook, and from it emerged the deep blue threads of heartbreak, the sickly yellow threads of hopelessness, and the scarlet threads of anger, all entwined together to form a ragged tapestry of profound grief and broken anguish.

"Lucifer. He's out again, but this time, shit went to fan." She said in a rock hard voice. She was staring at Cas's thumbs, and her body was shaking harder the stronger her words were. She tore her gaze off Cas's thumbs, and she watched as his pupils dilated and shrunk as he fought with an armada of emotions. The stare between them was so intense, and it did not break.

She gave a heart wrenching heave, and she wailed, quiet at first, but increased only so slightly in volume. It was high pitched, marinated in a sizzling pan of grief. It was so inhuman, so un-_Meg. _ It was gut instinct turned sour. It was basic human instinct; it was the instinct of grief and mourning. It was pure, untouched sadness. It took away Cas's voice, it snatched his tears. It even made off with his breath.

"…And?" Gabriel said, his voice tight. He gripped Meg's shoulder harder. She squeaked in quiet pain.

Cas slashed out at Gabriel, his pale fist battering Gabriel's arm away from Meg. Had the situation been different, Gabriel would have been shocked and would have smacked Cas back. But all he did was gape, dumbfounded, at his nonviolent brother who had anger seething in his boiling blue eyes. He had never seen anything so frightening. Sapphire knives were twisting in his skull. Cas looked ready to kill Gabriel, so great was his fury. Smoky anger poisoned his eyes.

Gabriel released Meg, but continued to look at her, squeezing for an answer.

Meg looked up at Cas, her eyes steaming scarlet. "It's Ruby, Clarence." She whispered, in a voice that made Cas blink and nearly fall to his knees. Tapping some hidden reserve of strength, he managed to stay on his feet.

Cas had never felt such a flurry of emotions in his life. Terror, pain, and a twisted love were all stabbing him with venomous knives. But anger, such as he had never felt it before, was absolutely hacking him apart. Cas had always read about a red haze going over a character's eyes whenever they were angry enough to be deadly. He never thought he would experience that himself. A demon was born inside Cas's soul that night, an infant of such power, an infant that grew to full size as fast as Meg uttered her next sentence.

"It was Lucifer, he got Ruby, I just know it Clarence. I didn't see it, I didn't see anything, All I saw was Ruby, walking up our street, and then this guy just comes up and fucking _stabs_ her, Castiel! _Lucifer fucking stabbed my little sister!_"

Meg's voice was growing in pitch and volume. She was hopping from foot to foot, her eyes growing wider and wider, drowning as hot tears were formed. She had dug her nails so hard into Cas's hand that he was bleeding, the blood as red as the haze in his eyes. The demon child scribbled on his sclera with a red sharpie, rejoicing at his hatred, laughing a high pitched, maniacal laugh.

Gabriel was watching the scene unfold with fear. He watched as his brother heaved, his muscles clenching and unclenching. His jaw was locked tight, and his brow furrowed and jutted outwards. He was breathing hard through his gritted teeth and nostrils. He was no longer shaking in fear. He was shaking in fury. He was shaking with something Gabriel never wished to see his brother shake with. He could almost see the demon writhing in his soul, he could almost hear it's seductive sigh of content as it bathed in Cas's astringent fury.

The more Gabriel watched, the more he breathed in the air that was tainted by Castiel's fury, the more hatred he felt himself. He grabbed at his hair, and he too began to quiver. He began to pace back and forth, as restless and a lioness ready for the hunt.

Lucifer had been a stain on the family name. Here, he had dumped an entire store isle of grape juice on a pure white sofa. Enough was enough.

"Castiel, you're hurting me," Me whispered, looking up at Cas with salty, wet, and fearful eyes. Her eyes showed so much hurt, but not physical hurt. It was emotional hurt, a wound in trust. A gunshot from someone she would least expect.

Gabriel watched as his brother jerked out of what was seemingly a trance, wince at what he had done, and clamp both of Megs hands into his, his touch gentler than a mother's to a wailing infant. He wiped away the blood he has caused Meg to bleed. Bringing her close, he left a gentle kiss on her hair, his breath warm on her head.

Gabriel and Cas both looked up as blaring sirens and flashing lights zoomed up the street, obviously heading toward the scene of the crime Meg claimed to be committed by Lucifer. Cas took Meg's word as gospel, so he believed her. Besides, who else in this neighborhood had the mind sick enough to stab a young girl?

Recovering use of his vocal cords, Cas asked in an extremely worried voice "I-Is she alright?! Did she…" He trailed off, not wanting to say his next thought.

"She couldn't have!" Gabriel snapped, his teeth biting off the air as he sounded out each sharp syllable.

"I don't know…I don't know…" Meg whispered, her head still sheltered in the crook of Cas's shoulder.

_She couldn't have._

Grabbing Meg a coat, and putting on their own coats, Cas and Gabriel readied themselves for the night ahead. Michael wouldn't notice their absence until well into the afternoon the next day. He had had a good time at the bar, and so had their father, just at a different bar.

Besides, Cas was going, no matter what any member of his family said.

And if he saw Lucifer along the way…Well, the image of Castiel Novak being a weak and nonviolent boy was going to be slaughtered, the jagged marble pieces littering the world's doorstep.

That night, the flames beneath his irises began to boil the anger, the anger that harbored in his eyes forevermore.

_Lucifer stabbed my fucking sister!_

_She couldn't have…_

_Did she?_

"Clarence?"

Cas jerked out of his dream state as he leaned against the Masters' front door. His backpack was slumped against his feet. Meg was still in the kitchen doorframe. She still had a claw like grip on the bowl of nacho cheese Doritos in her hand. Cas could feel the ghosts of her hands from a year ago, the hands that left the tiny white scars on his wrist. His hand was still pushing his hair back. Ruby was still massaging her right side, but her gaze was shifting between Meg and Cas. Gabriel was looking at Cas as if he had seen the same visions that he had. Mrs. Masters was still perched on the edge of the couch, defeated as she shakily sipped some of her tea. It seemed as though everyone had run the previous year's scenario in their heads. Meg had had enough, and had jerked everyone away from their daydreams that had a nightmare burning beneath.

Everyone was staring at Cas once again, looking to him for leadership and solace. Even Gabriel knew that matters that involved the Masters' overall well being was Cas's territory.

Cas heaved a sigh that was littered with defeat. He rubbed his eyes hard, as if trying to wipe away the pictures that were tacked to the insides of his eyelids. Over and over again, he relayed the events that occurred over a year before. Realizing that this was real, and that the threat that Lucifer posed was not to be underestimated, Cas instead concentrated on what precautions should be taken.

"So…um…what do we do? Do we try to find him before something bad happens again?" He asked, not taking his hands off his eyes. Cas was a stressed out puddle of anxiety as it was, but now he was on the verge of a panic attack. Already he felt like he wasn't getting enough oxygen, already he felt his fingers and nose beginning to tingle. Taking deep breaths, he eased himself back into the world where he didn't want to hyperventilate.

"No, not us. We'd never be able to find him. Lucifer knows we want to find him, so he'll make his little ass invisible to us. He's good at hiding from people," Gabriel growled, standing up with his empty coffee mug. He stalked towards the kitchen, Meg moving out into the living room to let him enter.

"Well, if not us, who, then?" Cas called in the direction of the kitchen. He heard the tap running, and the faint clinking of ceramics.

"We call the police, don't we? They told us to call if anything suspicious started happening…right?" Ruby said quietly, still absently rubbing her right side.

Cas's eyes moved along with her hand. Moving in slow circles, he leaned farther into the door, circulating in and out of reality…

"Why the hell didn't you call, Meg?"

Cas had tossed a heavy coat at Meg. She was wearing nothing more than a tank top and some pajama pants, and slipper socks. The air was a relentless nippy dog; Meg's red cheeks and hands said as much. It was autumn, gradually becoming winter. Tonight was no night to be wandering willy-nilly in the wrong clothes. Encasing her cuts with a some of the few bandages left in the house, Cas was still trying to comprehend what had happened.

"Phone's not working again," Gabriel called quietly from the ramshackle kitchen, his feet squeaking on the cracked, dirty linoleum. He quietly stomped a boot to situate his heel. His jaw was clenched, and he was glaring unblinkingly at the wall before him. Cas could almost hear the mental battle raging inside his head.

Meg nodded her agreement, bringing the coat around herself. It smelled of cigarettes and an excess amount of Old Spice, but she could live it. At least now she was warm, but the coat failed to heat the dread and fear inside her heart.

"I tried to call, but the phone just made a few funny clicks and just went dead. Then I just came here. I knew you guys were home, so…" She whispered, watching as hot tears soothed her cold hands. Her eyes followed Cas and he moved speedily around the house, somehow managing to tie his shoes and put on a coat at the same time. His jaw was clenched in the same matter as Gabriel's. Instead of keeping silent, he spit out a flurry of questions.

"Where is she now?" He asked, buttoning up his coat at lightning speed. Waiting for an answer and for Gabriel to finish, he put a hand on Meg's quaking shoulder. She didn't look right. She didn't smell right. Nothing was right, and Cas just wanted to fix everything. He wanted to tape and paper clip everything about Meg so that she wasn't sad and afraid. He had a mad desire to find some scotch tape, staples, and glue.

Gabriel shifted his attention from office supplies as they hurried out the front door and onto the sinking, wooden porch that sagged under their collective weight. Gabriel leapt off the porch and over the steps, while Cas and Meg clattered down them.

"How did you get away? Didn't you need to talk to the cops or something?" Gabriel called as he began to power walk. Meg looked impatient, taking fast, little steps.

"Can we move faster please?" She said, her voice tighter than a chokehold.

And with that, the three of them broke out into a run, the air jarred and jangled by the uneven thundering of each of their boot and footsteps. Tearing down the street, three silhouettes leapt over puddles, narrowly avoided late night dog walkers, and dodged angry car drivers.

Gabriel ran first. His right hand was in his pocket, and Cas knew that his switchblade was open and poised within the wool lining of his jacket. His legs were pumping, and Cas could almost hear him take deep, even gulps and exhales.

Meg ran behind his brother. Her arms were outstretched in order for her to keep her balance. There was no graceful, cool, collected Meg tonight. Tonight, thought Cas, lives were at stake. People that once prided themselves with quiet, awesome running sprinted wildly, hair flying and mouth open to consume oxygen that would propel them just a little faster.

As they ran, Cas sighed a quick sigh of relief when he saw and ambulance scream by.

Gabriel noticed as they tore down the street in the direction of the Masters' house that their neighbors were poking heads out of doors and peering out of windows. This neighborhood really was a peaceful place, and they rarely saw their police and medical force in action. Something awful must be happening if three police cars and an ambulance were going by!

As they rounded the corner onto Nectar Avenue, Gabriel, Castiel, and Meg nearly collided with a large crowd that had accumulated just beyond the police tape that was blocking off the whole street. Bouncing off of the thick form of Gabriel, Cas threw out his hands to brake Meg. Holding onto his arm, she tried to peer over the busybodies and down to her house.

Her jaw clenched, and she started to shove aside people with unimaginable force. People muttered at her angrily, but she stomped, kicked, and shoved in order to make her way to the front. Cas glanced at Gabriel, shrugged, and pushed after her, apologizing for the discomfort. Gabriel hissed, and followed after his brother and his friend.

Meg had made her way to the front of the crowd, and was pressed against the crime scene tape. She was arguing with the cop that was trying her hardest to keep everyone away. Cas recognized her from the many times she had to show up at school to prevents brawls and other things (started by Lucifer).

Gabriel and Cas had squeezed their way up to Meg, and could now hear Meg's argument with the cop.

"I'm sorry, miss, but no one is allowed in here. Something terrible has happened, and it's not for the public eye," said the cop in a saddened voice. She saw Meg's tear stained face and naturally felt pity.

Meg looked like she was going to scream, but she contained herself.

"I _know _something terrible happened! I _saw _it!"

The cop looked at her quizzically. "You saw it?" She said, her eyes alert and hungry for information.

"Yes! I was the one who called 911! _Now will you let me in?!" _Meg hissed, clawing at the crime scene tape and sobbing.

The cop looked reluctant. She was biting her lip and looking over her shoulder. She looked down at Meg's broken form, but still said nothing.

Cas walked up, putting an arm around Meg's shoulder. Seeing his best friend in such a state had been too much for him. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, and he was quivering from the cold and the pain. "Please ma'am. Her sister has been hurt. Her little sister," He said quietly, his voice wallowing in a plea.

The crime scene tape of imagination was lifted and Cas was shoved back into reality.

"Right?" Ruby squeaked, looking over at her mother.

Mrs. Masters nodded. She stood up, and walked over to Ruby. Standing behind her, she rubbed her shoulders soothingly, gentle removing the girl's massaging hand. Ruby leaned back into her mother, her eyes shining and afraid. Mrs. Masters planted a kiss on her daughter's hair.

"Of course, sweetie. The police will make sure nothing bad happens to us ever again." She said, the sugar in her voice somehow not managing to disguise her worry. Ruby seemed not to notice, for her shaking subsided a little, and she voluntarily stopped rubbing her side, the stab sight.

Meg's snort was nearly inaudible from next to the kitchen. With a shaky hand, she nibbled a Doritos. She seemed torn between believing that the police would take care of everything, and that her mind could be at peace, or believing that the police would not help, and that Lucifer would strike again. She made eye contact with Cas, and she had fear chained there. Cas's heart twanged. He had just been able to heal Meg of her fear and her pain. Now, that all meant nothing. No one felt safe. No one should feel safe.

"Meg?" Mrs. Masters said, addressing her oldest.

Meg nodded wordlessly, and disappeared behind the wall that Mrs. Masters and Ruby were leaning on. Cas heard her pick up the phone.

Cas picked up his backpack, and hauled it towards the kitchen. Plopping it on the oak table with a reverberating thud, he looked over at the sink. Gabriel was holding the counter, hunched over as if he was going to throw up. He wasn't suffering from any illness that Cas knew of, so he had to have been worrying. Gabriel often leaned on furniture whenever he was severely concerned. Having something hard and tangible beneath his fingers was something of a reassurance.

He turned at the sound of Cas's heavy backpack. What he saw was a glimpse of the past. It was as if Gabriel himself hadn't aged, but Cas had done the opposite. Cas looked to be eight or nine years younger than he was.

An eight year Cas stood before him, his blue eyes seemingly too large and too soft for his head. His hair was messy and disheveled from a long day at school full of Meg-hair-tousling. His mouth was a thin line, and he hugged his jacket close to himself. His shoulders were hunched, and he looked at Gabriel pleadingly. His oversized navy sweater complemented the image nicely.

"We'll be OK, kiddo," Gabriel said warmly, squeezing Cas's shoulder in a caring, fraternal way.

Cas squeezed his eyes shut, and nodded. He pressed his jacket closer to himself.

Cuffing the same shoulder, Gabriel moved past Cas and went back out into the living room, probably to confer with Mrs. Masters.

Serious voices echoed from the living room and Cas's mind.

"Alright. But please don't touch anyth-"

Meg was already shot out from beneath the tape, running as if the devil was chasing her. As Gabriel and Cas sprinted after her, dodging police officers, they knew that he wasn't. The devil was AWOL, as far as anyone knew.

Someone had slashed the street apart. The tranquil peace that fluttered like a butterfly had been burned by a venomous flamethrower. The screams of the peace that withered and burned was infused in the police car sirens as more cops showed up to the gruesome scene before them.

They reached the Master's house just in time to see a young girl be lifted into the back of an ambulance. She looked skeletal; an oxygen mask was strapped tightly to her thin face. She was stiff, and her eyes were loosely closed. Her face was drained of all color, and her shirt was dyed a dark crimson hue by some sort of liquid; they all knew what it was. She was so stiff…so small…so delicate…so stiff…

_She couldn't have…_

_Did she…?_

Meg had stopped, and had begun to sway violently. Cas's hands darted out, and firmly grasped her shoulders. She jerked out of a hazy, pained state, and looked at the ambulance. Her mouth was open, and her eyes appeared to be melting. Blue and red flashed across her face, illuminating the red of her eyes and the blue of her coat. Holding her shoulders and peering over her head, Cas watched as the figure of the girl was pushed into the gut of the medical vehicle.

His eyes moved over to two figures leaning against a close by police car. Both were wrapped in brown shock blankets. Cas recognized them instantly, and gently pushed Meg into their direction. Meg followed the gentle press of his fingers, and stumbled towards the blanketed figures; her parents.

Gabriel pulled Cas by his coat after Meg, and Cas went willingly. The three of them stumped towards the adult figures, burdened by sinking anguish and choking pain.

It was a hurricane of emotion and words.

"They won't let us ride in the ambulance,"

"Say they need their space,"

"But we have to be with her! What if she wakes up and we're not there-!"

Then there was sickening silence. The five of them knew that Ruby wasn't going to be waking up anytime soon. They all had seen her, how corpselike she had been. Her fingers were still erected into a claw, as if protecting herself from her long-gone assailant.

It was a day of firsts for all of them. It was the first time any of them, besides Mrs. Masters, had seen Mr. Masters cry. He was a thin man, but an emotionally strong man. He had the same harsh tongue and spunk as Meg, and here he was, crying with his wife and daughter, praying that Meg wasn't about to be his only daughter.

It was the first time that Gabriel had also cried, though his was the more silent type. Gabriel, although seemingly a careless jackass, was deeply affected by the emotional scene before him. Cold, salty tears flashed red and blue in the revolving lights of the emergency vehicles around him. He was standing awkwardly to the side. He knew the Masters, but he wasn't as close to them as Cas. Gabriel did not react well to violence at all. He would clam up and hide, just as he was doing right now.

For Meg, it was the first time she had been so scared she felt like she was literally going to pass out. Sure, she had had some panic attacks where she felt overwhelmed and nervous, but none of them compared to this. She could feel the blood vessels in her eyes pulsating as her heart beat as fast as her father was driving after the ambulance towards a dark place that was full of artificial lights and eerie heart monitors…

For Cas, it was the first time he had to squeeze into a five small person car, while he, Gabriel, and Meg were all large teenagers/young adults. He was practically lying on top of Gabriel, and he was squishing himself into his corner as much as he could. Trying to breathe as his lungs tightened, he squeezed his eyes shut.

The crunch of Doritos yanked his eyes open.

Meg had finished her call, and had taken to pacing the house with a dead light guttering out in her eyes. She chewed the chips mechanically, and she moved as if she was programmed. Her eyes were focused on some unseen object, and as she moved, her eyes didn't move from that invisible object. Was she also envisioning what had happened on the lawn just outside the very house she was standing in?

"You alright?" Cas murmured quietly, padding over to her.

Meg set down the Doritos bowl next to Cas's bag. Reluctantly, she tore her eyes off her imaginative vision.

She shook her head. Folding her arms over her chest, she licked her lips. She was determined to not make eye contact with him. She swallowed with difficulty, and licked the cheese off her fingers.

"This is going to be hard for all of us," Cas continued, trying to make eye contact, but Meg didn't want to give in. She just licked her orange finger tips and nodded. She was in no mood to converse with anyone. She was bottling up again, even though Cas had warned her of the disadvantages of doing that.

"Meg, I don't think anything will happen to Ruby, not this time," He said, his voice masking a plea. Talk to me! Say something, please! I need to know you're alright!

"How do we know, Clarence? We didn't know _last _time," Meg hissed quietly. Cas nodded to himself. Meg was definitely afraid. Meg lashed out in anger whenever she was afraid, nervous, or stressed. She couldn't help it. Over the years, Cas had learned to deal with Meg's way of dealing.

Cas sighed sharply, and looked to the ceiling. He himself was becoming agitated. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans, not before pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Hearing Cas's quiet, deep, and caring voice was too much for Meg. One fat tear crawled tentatively down her face, tainted black by mascara that failed to be waterproof. She rubbed at an imaginary spot on her chin, still looking out of the corner of her eye. Her frown was dead.

Cautiously, Cas took his hands out of his pockets, and moved ever so slightly forward, arms slightly outstretched. They asked the question that Meg wanted them to ask; need a hug?

Meg stepped forward and leaned her head on Cas's chest. Through the warmth of his soft sweater, Meg heard the reassuring tempo of his heart. Like the quick rimshots of a snare drum, Cas's heart whispered gently in her ear. Meg closed her eyes, her hand slightly curled up on Cas's chest, her fingertips rubbing into his chest. His arms wrapped around her, stroking her long, dark hair, Cas swayed back and forth. It was soothing for infants, and it was soothing for the both of them. Meg felt like she could fall asleep right then and there as a wave of exhaustion suddenly hit her. Breathing in his nice, familiar scent repaired her frayed nerves. Cas's breath was warm in her hair as he muttered kind words that she had a hard time hearing. But it didn't matter. The tone was good enough for her.

Meg had fallen asleep. Crying was evidently an exhausting thing for her as well. In the near empty waiting room outside of the surgery room sat Cas, Meg, Mr. and Mrs. Masters, and Gabriel. Gabriel was quite used to being up late. He wouldn't be able to sleep for quite a while yet. He was hunched over on the edge of his seat, his elbows on his knees, attached to folded hands. His chin rested on his hands. A lollipop from the little bucket next to him stuck out of his mouth. His toes were keeping a beat to a song only he could hear. His eyes were blank.

Mr. Masters was trying to read one of the magazine they kept outside for entertainment. It wasn't very entertaining, in his opinion. He had spent an hour trying to read the first article. His eyes and ears kept darting towards the steel doors a few yards to his right. Occasionally he would look to his restless wife and sleeping daughter, as well as Cas, who was practically his only son.

Mrs. Masters was also trying to read a magazine on women's health. She had never read anything that was so mundane in her life. She read each sentence five times, but nothing stuck, so she gave up and tried the next sentence. She too kept looking up at those doors, but they remained as emotionless as ever. They probably lived on the tears of broken souls, the bastards.

Meg had tried to stay awake, but swollen eyes and exhaustion from running rampant from place to place had proved too much for her. She had fallen asleep around midnight, according to Cas's watch. She had curled up on the couch next to Cas, leaning on his shoulder and holding his forearm. Cas could feel her twitching as she slept. He was dozing off himself, his head sinking lower and lower until it was resting on Meg's head. Their breathing matched one another, until they inhaled and exhaled at the same time.

Cas kept jerking awake because he thought he kept hearing the door opening. No, it was Gabriel getting another lollipop. No, it was Mr. Masters shifting in his seat. No, it was Mrs. Masters accidentally dropping her magazine on the metal table. No, it was Gabriel opening yet another lollipop. No, it was Meg muttering to herself in her dreams. No, it's not the door, and it wouldn't be the door for a long time. Go to sleep.

"I'm tired, Clarence."

Cas jerked out of his doze. He wasn't the only one who was about to sleep standing up. The tired hands of Monday afternoon had caressed the pair; both of their eyes were heavy. Cas held Meg by her arms, and he nodded. "Maybe you should go take a nap," He suggested, leaning over to the table and grabbing his backpack.

"I have schoolwork to do,"

"Yes, I suppose you do…Go on up. I'll get your bag." Cas said, gently turning her and steering her out of the kitchen. He watched as she dejectedly walked up the stairs, not looking back.

As Cas scooped up Meg's bag, a shadow fell over him. Looking up, he saw Gabriel standing before him,. His face expressionless.

"I have to get going or I'll catch hell from my boss," He said to all of them.

"Be careful, Gabriel, and thank you for telling us." Mrs. Masters said in a weary voice. It seemed as though Monday had visited them all and coated them in his sleepy dust. Ruby was already curled up on the couch, her head resting on her mother's lap. She nodded in response to Gabriel's words.

Gabriel cuffed Cas's shoulder one last time. "See ya, little bro." He said, and loped towards the door. He opened it.

The door squeaked as it opened. Cas and Meg jerked awake at the same moment. Meg bumped her head on Cas's jaw, and she growled in annoyance. Rubbing his eyes, Cas looked towards the door. Recalling where he was, his heart quickened, and his sleepiness was swept away by some invisible broom.

Gabriel nearly choked on his lollipop as the door unexpectedly opened. He stood up, along with everyone else.

_She couldn't have…_

Now was the time to find out.

_Did she…? _

That was the question everyone was too afraid to ask.

The doctor was a young man with dark hair and pale skin. His eyes were light, but his hands seemed heavy. His expression was frustratingly unreadable. They needed facial expressions. They needed to know the news before he told them. They needed to know what the verdict was _now. _

Mr. Masters had his arm around his wife. His eyes were huge and hungry for an answer he was afraid of receiving. Meg was still squeezing Cas's forearm. He swallowed, and tore the doctor apart with his gaze. The air was tense.

"She'll be alright,"

Cas had entered Meg's room, dragging two heavy backpacks with him. Meg was curled in a slight ball, leaning against her bed. She was playing with a battered model T-rex. Cas smiled softly. That T-rex was just a part of his childhood as it was Meg's. Warmly, he pushed all of the worried, sad thoughts out of his head and ushered in all the times he and Meg had played together with that very T-rex. But, the more he thought about that, the faster he worried, and Ruby filled thoughts entered his head once more.

Shaking his head like a weary hunting dog, Cas plopped Meg's backpack onto her bare feet. She jumped, and stuffed the model dinosaur back under her bed, where the rest of her old toys were stored in dusty boxes, along with dusty memories. She moved her hand so that Cas could sit down next to her. He frown as dead as before, she tossed a pencil at him, which he deftly caught.

"You keep saying that, Clarence, and I keep trying to believe you…but…" Meg said, trailing off.

"But you're worried about your sister." Cas finished, poking her cheek with his pencil. Meg grinned a little for a split second, a spark of the old Meg breaking through the mask for a few precious tenths of a second.

"And that's perfectly understandable. If _my _sister had ever gotten stabbed, and I figured out her alleged stabber was on the loose again, I'd be nervous too," Cas murmured, but his arm around Meg. She nodded, looking at her toes, which she wiggled in an attempt to amuse herself.

Cas reached out to his backpack, and pulled out his chemistry homework. More work on moles. And not the fuzzy kind. Sighing one of the most depressed Monday sighs Meg had ever heard, Cas picked up his calculator.

His pencil skittered over the paper. His cold hands gripped a clipboard, and he looked up at the five exhausted, nervous people before him. The doctor himself was tired. He had performed an operation on a little girl who should be nowhere near an operating room. She should be safe at home with the family he saw before him. How scratchy her breathing had been. How dully her eyes shone. How disturbing were her mutters as he and his team of nurse set about fixing the jagged hole in her right side.

"…Well…?" Mr. Masters finally uttered, his voice shaking.

The doctor, whose name was Emmanuel, watched the people before him as a wave of sympathy drowned him. He saw the girl's parents, eyes orbs of hope and fear. He saw an older sister with swollen eyes and dry lips, gripping an older brother's arm. He looked like he was going to collapse from fear and tiredness. However his eyes were alive, and surveying the doctor from scrubbed head to toe. An even older brother, or perhaps a friend, was standing next to the parents, his lollipop making him appear less intimidating as she glowered at the Emmanuel, as if challenging him to give bad news.

Reviewing his clipboard, and his fresh memories, Emmanuel allowed a reassuring smile. As soon as he did, the room seemed to shake with one collective sigh. The younger brother's knees nearly buckled, but the older sister had a firm grip on his arm, and made him keep his balance. The mother covered her mouth and she took in a sharp breath. A fresh wave of tears rolled down her cheeks, but they smelled of relief and joy. The older brother pushed his long hair back, and whistled between his teeth and . The father squeezed his wife in a hug, murmuring prayers aloud, prayers of thanks, prayers against the flat line that could have sounded in the operating room as his youngest passed.

"Your daughter is out of surgery, and she's stable. She should be fine." Said Emmanuel, tucking his pencil behind his ear. His heart warmed as he watched the little brother and the older sister hug, rocking back and forth. She was sobbing and he was crying out in tender relief. The two turned as the older brother approached them. The little brother embraced him first, his face a ray of sunshine. Opening his eyes, he beamed at Emmanuel, his eyes alive with love and joy. He closed his eyes, and burrowed his cheek into his brother's neck. The sister hugged them both, almost circumnavigating them with her arms. Almost.

"Thank you so much," The father said, coming to shake his hand. Emmanuel took it, not surprised at the enthusiasm behind it. He had seen many men cry before, but his heart went out to this one. Never before had Emmanuel worked with a stab victim, much less a young girl not yet out of junior high, probably. It was one of those cases he would remember for the rest of his life.

"M-may we see her?" The sister asked in a voice with so much strength that the doctor was startled. He blinked at her in wonderment.

He was hesitant. "Well…She is going to look different…And she won't awake for another few hours, I would imagine…" He murmured, clipping and unclipping his clipboard repeatedly.

"So? We want to see her," The older brother said, opening another lollipop while he threw away the stick of his old one.

Emmanuel smiled a bit. "I understand…However, ICU isn't for everyone…It takes guts and a strong mind…" He said. He remembered the first time he had stepped into ICU. That was also an experience he would never forget.

"We want to see her." Declared the little brother, his eyes still dancing under happiness and joy's direction. His voice was elated, yet firm.

Emmanuel took his pencil from behind his ear, and his pencil skittered across the paper once more.

Even more tired than he once was, Cas placed his pencil behind his ear. Moles burrowed around in his head, although not the furry, tunnel building ones. He slumped his head back on Meg's bed, and jumped when a hairy warmth slumped into his neck. Meg had decided to take a nap after all, although she probably didn't plan on it, judging by the half finished sentence on her English homework, and a pencil that lay slack in her hand.

Cas sighed. Now he couldn't move; that was the only downside of having people leaning against you. If he moved just the slightest bit, Meg would wake up and move away. And then his right side would be cold. That chill was always the worst.

Moving his foot, he kicked his backpack closer to himself, trying to pull out his Latin homework. Opening his bag with one hand, he stuffed his Chemistry things back inside, and yanked out his Latin things. He wanted nothing more than to sleep at four o' clock Monday afternoon, but there was work to be done. Thankfully, all he had to do was translate English words into Latin, and then put them into charts. That was easy.

He tapped his pencil against his paper, trying to remember all of the declensions that were hiding deep in his tired mind.

A regular rhythm of noise echoed in their ears. The monitor chirped every second or two, pealing out coldly and emotionlessly every time Ruby's heart decided to take a beat.

Emmanuel had not been lying. Ruby certainly did look different. And ICU certainly did require guts. Even Meg, probably the toughest of the five, felt her stomach gurgle in discomfort. The only reason Cas was standing the shivers shooting up and down his spine was because he had to be there with Meg. The sight of all the tubes attached to Ruby, his little sister in his mind, was unsettling and upsetting. Even though he felt joy that she was alive, he cried because she was not well. Damn that heart monitor! How cold and uncaring it was! Be a little sensitive!

Ruby was paler than Cas, a feat to be admired. Only her cheeks were showing color; colored by another person's blood. Cas could barely see her under all of the tubes that were keeping her alive. Her breath rattled quietly, but she was undoubtedly breathing. That was a good thing.

Gabriel was sucking on his lollipop, his face pale. He had been to the hospital once before, and that was to come and check on Cas when he had broken his arm and had been driven to the ER by the Masters family while he was at work. He hadn't liked the hospital then; this was a thousand Cas filled ERs smashed into one malicious monster. Gabriel didn't like to say he was afraid of hospitals, just that he had a strong dislike of them.

Cas looked around at Emmanuel, who was standing at his shoulder. His blue eyes were beholding Ruby, and they were laced with sorrow. Cas could see that the young doctor was deeply affected by the case. Cas would have reacted the exact same way. Emmanuel's eyes darted over to Cas when he noticed he was being looked at. His heart reached out for the boy, whose blue eyes shone even brighter blue when they were washed with tears.

Emmanuel sighed. His clipboard dropped to his side as he let his arms fall. Cas saw eyes with dark circle similar to his own. He glanced at his watch that hung loosely against his thin wrist. It was 2:04 in the morning.

"It is unsettling, isn't it?" Emmanuel said in a quiet voice.

Cas looked over at the bed that encased the broken young girl. "It certainly is," He responded, running a hand through his hair. Judging by the state of it, the boy had done that many times before.

"I always say that they should make heart monitors with a happier sound. I find that beeping to be most unsympathetic and depressing." Emmanuel said, hugging his clipboard to his chest once more. Cas turned to look at the doctor, who was frowning and bobbing his head with agreement of his own words.

"I thought the exact same thing." The boy said with a small smile, turning back to the sister, who needed his arm for emotional and physical support. The strong girl in the waiting room was slowly starting to trickle away. She was being overwhelmed by emotional breakdown. Emmanuel had seen it many times before, and decided to leave the family with their daughter and sister.

Castiel looked towards the door, and he pushed up his glasses that had fallen down his nose as he sank into a sound sleep. He sensed that someone was looking at him, and had awoken immediately.

Mrs. Masters was leaning on the doorframe to Meg's room. Her arms were folded, and for a second Cas thought she was Meg, they looked so alike. Meg's shoulders always hugged her neck when she was concerned, just as Mrs. Masters was doing now.

She blinked when she noticed that she had woken Cas. His eyes were huge for a moment, and then he blinked, as if realizing that he was safe. Then his eyes seemed to drop from exhaustion, as if his eyelids seemed weighed down by boulders. Fighting to keep awake, his head kept jerking up to keep eye contact with Mrs. Masters.

"Go back to sleep, honey. I just wanted to check that you guys were alright." She whispered, the words just barely tickling Cas's eardrums.

Cas nodded, and pushed up his glasses.

His head drooped.

A trickle of water woke Cas up for the fifth time that night. Gabriel certainly was thirsty. He'd have to go to the little bathroom that was down the hall eventually. Maybe he already did, but Cas was too deep in sleep to notice. Either way, the more he thought about it, Cas had to use the restroom himself. Anything to get out of this dreary waiting room.

Meg was particularly heavy when she was asleep. She was in REM sleep; Cas was woken up a few times to her eyelashes tickling his neck when her eyes twitched. Her brow was furrowed, and her lips stuck out as if she was pouting in her dreams.

Gently, Cas eased himself away, catching her before she slumped over and hit her head on the metal armrest of the sofa they were occupying. She snorted air through her nose like a bull, and growled. Cas gulped, and stood stock still, until Meg's breathing was regular again. He then leaned her against the back of the sofa, making sure she didn't slide either way and hit her head.

Whisking down the hallway, he passed Ruby's room. The door was slightly open. Peering through the crack, he saw Emmanuel standing by her IV rack. Ruby was starting to get more color in her as the transfusion blood explored its new home. The monitor was still depressing, but it was becoming more regular. Emmanuel pushed on a syringe so that a clear liquid entered a tube that was attached to the young girl's arm, putting some sort of medicine inside of Ruby. Emmanuel then straightened the blankets, making sure they were hugging her comfortably. Cas smiled to himself, and continued down the hall, towards a sign telling him that the men's restroom was just behind this door.

As Cas was in the restroom, Gabriel's brain was working overtime. Perhaps that's why he needed so much water. He watched as the rest of the Masters family began to fall asleep. But he couldn't sleep. His brain was tormenting him, not allowing him to doze. Chewing on his lollipop stick, his brain reeled.

Lucifer had always been a bad kid. How many phone calls had he taken, calls from a teacher complaining of something he had done? It seemed countless. How many fire alarms had he set off? How many fights had he been in? How many suspensions, detentions? Too many. How many times had he vented his rage on Cas? That was where Lucifer crossed the line. That was where Gabriel and Michael both screamed at Lucifer. Although Cas didn't know it, Michael loved his little brother dearly. The second any of Lucifer's arguments involved Cas was the second Michael ended the argument.

But Gabriel never thought Lucifer would turn this sour. Still, there was some doubt. Meg had certainly not been at a good mental state of mind when she saw her little sister get stabbed. Perhaps she said it was Lucifer purely because he was the only bad guy she could think of. It was dark on Nectar Avenue, the street the Masters lived on. How could she see him? The place where Ruby had been stabbed was in the shadows between streetlights. Perhaps his brother was innocent…?

Gabriel knew his chances were as dim as the crime scene.

How he wanted for someone to reassure him that Lucifer was innocent. How he wanted for some sign from his father above. He loved his brother, no matter how flawed he may seem. Even though he did almost kill his brother's best friend's sister, he still loved him. It was the curse of being a caring brother. Lucifer couldn't give two shits about him. But Gabriel would never stop caring for his sibling.

Rubbing his eyes and sighing, Gabriel tried to get his mind off fraternal issues. It was all too much for his brain to handle. He couldn't stand the thought that his brother had almost turned into a killer. He'd just have to wait for Ruby to wake up and tell him whether or not Lucifer was indeed the monster who wielded the knife that pierced not only the girl's guts, but also the peace of mind of an entire neighborhood.

Gabriel rested his head on a fist, and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come and take him away from this hospital waiting room with magazines even more boring than the ones outside the operation waiting room.

In the dark of the night, rain began to fall. Banging against the window with watery fists, the rain howled to come in. Listening to the curses made Gabriel sleepy. Something pounding with a continual rhythm was soothing, and it fixed the frayed ends of his frazzled nerves. Lightning flashed behind him, roaring at anyone who would come close to hurt him. Thunder purred a short while later, hugging the anxious 23 year old as he fought the monster that was his mind.

Before Gabriel drifted off to sleep, listening to the rain, he saw Cas pad silently back into the room. His hands were thrust deep into the pocket of his maroon sweatshirt. Sneaking back to the sofa where Meg was sleeping, open mouthed, he settled down. He took off his dirty sneakers and socks, and wiggled his toes to amuse himself as he waited for sleep to take him.

Through eyelids slowing sinking downwards, Gabriel watched as Meg suddenly jerked awake. She blinked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She looked at Cas, startled. His eyes were huge. He gave a tiny, swift wave, which she returned after a few seconds' startled staring. Yawning, Meg stood up, and stumbled over to the water fountain. Licking dry lips, she gulped down a Dixie cup of cold water. As she went back to the sofa, the water machine gurgled.

Meg sat back down, and she and Cas just stared at one another, eyes blank. Gabriel saw Meg's chest heave a sigh, and she too pulled off her shoes, tossing them aside next to Cas's neatly lined up pair.

Cas moved his arm to the back of the sofa, offering her a warm place to sleep. Meg nodded slightly, and curled up in the crook of his arm, her eyes closing and her frown returning. Cas murmured something before kissing her on the forehead, then resting his head on hers, he too closing his eyes. Gabriel grinned a tiny bit, and finally closed his eyes.

Mrs. Masters closed the bedroom door and watched as her son and her daughter were embraced once more by that peaceful guardian: sleep.

Stealing out of the room as quietly as possible, Emmanuel shut the door to hospital room 245.

Emmanuel leaned against the door, his eyes gently closed as he breathed a sigh of relief.

Mrs. Masters leaned against the door, her eyes squeezed shut as she wheezed a sigh of fear.

Fear. Exhaustion had a new companion. A companion that caused dry eyes to become bloodshot as they stared at the ceiling, trying to ignore the echoes of the past that only Death could silence.

Only the echoes were no longer echoes.

The echoes were coming back to life, as if Death wasn't even trying.


End file.
